


We Live

by TheRainbowWillow



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: And added Olympus Drama and thirty times more characters than necessary, Be warned:, Because I changed almost every major event, But no it isn't, F/M, Its Hadestown, M/M, some violence and blood descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRainbowWillow/pseuds/TheRainbowWillow
Summary: PREVIOUSLY: Untitled Hadestown AU* With Olympus Drama (*Term Used Lightly)When his lover Eurydice is taken to Hadestown, Orpheus wastes no time going to find her. Following his adoptive father Hermes's directions, Orpheus finds himself in the heart of the realm of the dead, singing for King Hades and his wife, Persephone. When things go quickly downhill, a variety of gods and heroes take matters into their own hands to free Orpheus and Eurydice from the realm of the dead.The first part in a series that quickly becomes less and less of a Hadestown AU at all.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus, Apollo/Hyacinthus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown), Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Way Down to Hadestown

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE WE BEGIN! This is an 18-part story, as yours truly, Erin Eliza, does not know the meaning of 'brief'. Feel free to find something shorter in a time crunch!
> 
> Orpheus has arrived in Hadestown, ready to present his song in hopes of saving Eurydice. (These synopses do get better, I swear it!)

Orpheus’ song reverberates against the walls of Hades’ underworld. A girl emerges from the shadows, dressed in the same simple clothes as her fellow workers. She hears his voice, strained with passion. And as he sings, her memories flood back: the cold, cold winter. The ticket. Her signature. Then she remembers life, before all had felt so hopeless: flowers. Love. Finally, his name. “Orpheus!” She calls to her lover. Her would-be husband.

His song trails off. “Eurydice?” He glances around the cavern, desperately looking for his lost lover.

“Keep singing, boy.” Orpheus starts at the sound of Hades’ booming voice. “You promised a song, now give it to me.”

Eurydice sees his legs shaking, how wide his eyes are, how nervous and exhausted he looks. “I thought I heard….” he mumbles.

“I will not have your excuses, poet. Sing.”

Orpheus nods and draws his fingers across his lyre once more. Even among the horrors of Hadestown, he finds himself lost in his music. He shuts his eyes as he sings. Flowers bloom. Flowers. Hades nor Persephone could remember such a sight in the underworld, not since they’d resided in its dark walls. Persephone reaches down and brushes her divine fingers against their petals, as if to determine whether or not she’s imagining them. This mortal boy’s song, so beautiful that springtime had arrived in the underworld.

Eurydice stands, frozen in place by the music. The amnesia-inducing haze of the River Lethe is lifted and the wails of shades ring the halls. Memories return to those who had forgotten their mortal lives. Lovers fall into each other’s embraces. Parents find their children.

Eurydice is fixed upon Orpheus. His song is louder than any cry. Not a single note is ever out of place. His voice never breaks. It crescendos perfectly, falls without flaw. Yet Eurydice knows that no man, not even the son of a god can keep up such perfection forever. She knows Orpheus better than anyone. She notices how gaunt he looks. The walk to Hadestown is long and hard. It had taken her at least a day by train, it must’ve taken a week or more to walk. She knew all he’d have done was walk and sing. Orpheus hadn't spared a minute for anything but his song back home and he wouldn’t have done differently on his long trek to the underground. Had he eaten? Drank? Slept? Eurydice wonders.

Persephone, too, recognizes Orpheus is unwell. He’s trembling as he sings and all she can hope is that her husband doesn’t see his weakness. She takes Hades’ hand and hums along the melody. He faces her, smiling as she hadn’t seen him smile for years and years. He stands and she fears for a moment that he sees Orpheus’ desperation, so plainly written on the boy’s face. But he holds her hands in his and he sways, a slow, silent dance. At first, she doesn’t look at him, her gaze frozen upon Orpheus. The song goes on, the dance goes on, and she finally indulges herself. She’s pressed up against her husband as they hadn’t been in longer than she could remember.

Eurydice is the first to react when Orpheus begins to sway on his feet. She rushes to his side, going unnoticed by the king of the underworld, still caught up in his dance. He looks worse up close. His eyes are puffy from lack of sleep and he weighs nothing when his voice breaks and he groans, slipping into Eurydice’s arms. “Orpheus! Orpheus, you gotta stay awake,” she begs, glancing at Hades, holding his wife in a tight embrace as if nothing had changed.

He blinks wearily. “Eurydice?”

“It’s me,” she whispers. “Keep singing,” she urges him.

“W-what?” He’s hard to understand, his speech slurred by exhaustion.

“Your song, love. Sing your song.”

He leans against her. “Now? Eurydice, I’m tired.”

She hears Hades’ movement and bites her lip, determining what could convince him to keep going. “You wanna marry me, Orpheus?”

A tiny smile crosses his lips. “Yes,” he whispers.

“Sing the song.”

“Hold on to me. Please,” he implores.

“I’ve got you.” She brushes the hair out of his eyes. “Now sing.”

And he does. Eurydice watches Persephone pull her husband into her arms once more. “Keep going,” the Queen of the Underworld mouths.

Orpheus’ song fills the room again, quieter this time, and not quite so filled with life. Hades frees himself from his wife’s arms and sits upon his steel throne. “Where did you get that melody, boy?” he asks.

Orpheus stops singing. “I dunno.”

“Mortal poets don’t just find songs like that. Where’d you learn it?”

“I wasn’t taught.” His voice is little more than a ragged whisper. “It… it came to me, I suppose.”

“How-"

Persephone cuts him off. “Hades, the boy is half-starved. Look at him, husband. Mortals don’t last long down here. Hear the boy’s demands, Hades.”

He sighs. “Yes, I see. So, poet, what do you ask of me? What do you ask of Hades, King of the Underworld?”

“J-just let us go, sir.” He lifts his head. “Please.”

Hades smiles. “No one leaves the underworld.”

“I came all this way!” he cries.

“Fool!” Hades shouts. The world falls silent. No shade dares to cross the King of Hadestown himself. “You knew this would fail and yet you came anyway. You want to leave, you insolent idiot, then leave. Your lover with you.”

Orpheus wipes the tears from his eyes. “T-thank you,” he stammers.

“Not so fast. You leave on my terms. You will not lay eyes upon Eurydice until you reach the surface or she will be mine once more. You will not touch Eurydice or you will suffer the consequences. And your path will not be made easy. You will not sing.”

Orpheus immediately squeezes his eyes shut, so as not to look at his lover. But still, he leans against her to remain on his feet. For a second they stand together. Then Hades speaks once more.

“You forget our agreement already?” His voice is dangerous and cruel.

Orpheus yelps and collapses.

“You are not to touch her, boy. This is your consequence.”

He doesn’t move, remaining crumpled at Eurydice’s feet, gasping for breath. His knuckles go white as a new wave of pain racks his body. “Stop! Stop!” he pleads, “make it stop…”

“Hades!” Persephone grabs her husband’s wrist. “Listen to him.”

“Why should I? The boy gave me our song, I gave him my terms. He broke them, hardly a second after I gave them.” Orpheus shrieks again. Eurydice looks at him helplessly, writhing in pain at her feet.

“Let him go.” Her voice is firm. “He can’t stand on his own, he didn’t have a choice.”

He narrows his eyes. “This is not under your jurisdiction. I gave the boy what he asked. They can leave whenever they wish.”

“This is what you call justice?” she snaps.

“This is what I call control!”

Her brow furrows in disgust. “You aren’t the man I married.”

Orpheus sobs, holding his hands over his eyes. “Stop…” he moans. “Oh… please…”

Eurydice looks at the endless rows of the dead. “Help him!” she begs. No one moves. “Please! For all he gave you, this is what you return?”

“Hades, he cannot stand. He couldn’t make it out of here if he tried. This is cruel. This is evil.” Persephone glares at him.

“Perhaps he should try. He isn’t chained up.”

“How can you say that? He came all this way, grieving and filled with despair, but still, he walked. His pain is not yours to manipulate, husband.”

“He is in my realm, he is mine.” Hades snatches his hand out of her grip.

Orpheus’ hands slips from his face. For a moment, Eurydice fears that he’s seen her. But he’s silent. His eyes are closed. His breaths are shallow; the dingy underworld air seems not enough to keep him breathing. “Please!” Eurydice cries out to the bystanders. “He lifted the charm of the Lethe, he gave you your memories! Help him!”

Finally, a man pushes his way through the crowd. He makes his way to Orpheus’ side. “I’m sorry. I would’ve come sooner.”

Eurydice shakes her head. “No, thank you. Thank you!”

“He’s still breathing,” the man informs her. He tears a strip of fabric from his uniform and ties it over Orpheus’ eyes. “Keep him blindfolded, don’t make him do more than he must. He’ll be alright, but he can’t stay here.”

“How am I meant to get him out?” she asks.

“I don’t-"

“Patroclus!” A man shouts from behind them.

He sighs. “Achilles.”

“I thought we were done making impulsive decisions.”

“The boy’s sick. I know medicine. Besides, she’s right. How much longer could we have fought the Lethe without that song?”

Achilles looks up to Hades’ throne. He kneels and forces Patroclus to do the same. “Apologies, my lord. We’ll not interfere further.”

Patroclus stands. “Do as you will. I’m not bending my knee. Lord Hades, the boy’s in love. We both know how it is. The underworld is yours, but Orpheus is not dead. He does not belong to you.”

“Patroclus!” Achilles grabs his wrist. “Don’t,” he hisses.

“I couldn’t remember your name this morning, in case you’ve forgotten. Now I ask that you let me help him. His song gave us hope.”

Achilles exhales. “Fine. Not alone, you won’t.”

Patroclus grins.

“Enough,” Hades booms. “This is not your matter for involvement, either of you. Leave him to his fate and perhaps you’ll escape with only double hours in the mines.”

Neither man seems affected by his threats. The world is silent for a moment as Patroclus returns to Orpheus's side.

“Hades!” Persephone snaps, “I’m done with you. Spring should’ve started a month ago. I’m leaving. I’m leaving with them. Perhaps your brother could teach you something. Seduce a pretty nymph. Love a mortal. Just… leave me be.”

“Wait. Persephone.”

“I’m done waiting. I’m done. If you want to see me again, release them from your damn terms.”

“Persephone. You will not leave.”

“Try me.” She stands and steps into the center of the cavern where Orpheus lays, still barely breathing. She kneels at his side and places a hand against his forehead.

Patroclus approaches her. “He’s feverish. Dehydrated. Beyond fatigued,” he says.

She nods. “The underworld will rip the life from his lungs. Let us go before it does.”

“Persephone!” Hades rises to his full height, looming over his kingdom.

“Their terms, Hades.”

He scowls. “I release them. They may see and touch each other. The furies, however, will not be so easily convinced.” Defeated, he sinks back into his chair. Then he rises once more. “But the boy will not sing, so long as he is in my realm. His lover made a deal. She was to be mine. He may have her, but he’ll lose something in return. His pretty little song. He sings, he's mine."

Persephone scowls. It’s not what she'd asked for, but it’ll have to do for now.

In an instant, Eurydice pulls her lover into her arms. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m so sorry, Orpheus,” she whispers in his ear.

Persephone takes his hand and pulls away his blindfold. “Wake up,” the goddess whispers, “Come on, baby, wake up.”

Orpheus gasps and his eyes flutter open. He throws his hands over his face to shield his view. “Eurydice…” he mumbles.

“I’m here. You can look at me. There’s no more terms. Look at me.” She pulls his hands away and he looks at her.

“I… ugh…” he groans, slumping against her.

“Shh, it’s alright. Don’t talk. We’re gonna get out of here. Together.”

He shuts his eyes again. “Mm hm.”

“Orpheus, it’s a long walk to Hadestown. You didn’t eat much on the way?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t have anything to eat.”

“Orpheus…” her voice breaks. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t stand living without you.”

“You won’t have to,” she tells him. “You never have to leave my side again. I promise.”

“We need to go,” Achilles says. “Now.”

Eurydice turns to face him. “He needs rest.”

“We’ll have worse than exhaustion to contend with.” There’s shuffling in the crowd. “Hades still has loyal workers.”

“Hades.” Persephone growls. “He’s right, Eurydice. This is a trap he’s laying. They’ll follow us.”

“Can he stand, Eurydice?” Patroclus asks.

She doubts it. He looks like a blade of grass could knock him over. “We’ll find out.” She says.


	2. Way Out of Hadestown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Premise/last time: Orpheus passes out, breaking the charm of his song too early. Persephone talks down Hades's cruel terms until the only rule is that Orpheus is not allowed to sing. The Queen of the Underworld as well as Achilles and Patroclus, long forgotten shades, choose to aid Orpheus on his way out of Hadestown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I should specify:
> 
> -Orpheus is Apollo’s (and Calliope's) kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.
> 
> -Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.
> 
> -Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)
> 
> -You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.
> 
> -The term "AU" is lose to say the least.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice…” he mumbles. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods, ignoring her betrayal. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember… anything really. I sang. Then I…” he turns away, unable to face her. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again," she swears.

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song… I thought… Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And… it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him… the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “Then we’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers and their child on her knee. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet- that boy- that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is his. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her…

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but their King makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what will she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermes, God of Roads and Messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d probably be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule, as usual.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one is meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: 'Tell Orpheus I’m coming.' “Nothing, father. Just… matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-"

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I got drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear…”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of gold. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and… “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Eighteen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid," he predicts.

“Don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and… all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps… treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn’t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife… no, fiancée. No… I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead," Apollo says. "Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from here on Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-"

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this… winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-"

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan more than certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t," Hermes refutes. "Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally came to Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions nearly starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my greatest struggle in writing is… posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades’ terms for Orpheus leaving Hadestown are extremely harsh. Persephone threatens him and he’s forced to back down, leaving Orpheus with a single rule: he can’t sing until he’s out. He orders the residents of Hadestown to kill Orpheus, the only living mortal in the underworld. Eurydice, Persephone, and other mythological heroes join him on the journey to escape. Hermes gets word of his son’s trial and decides he’ll assist Orpheus. Dionysus joins him to visit Persephone (his mother) and Apollo comes as well, inspired by Orpheus’s attempt at freeing Eurydice, to find his lover, Hyacinthus.

Eurydice lays beside her sleeping lover, staring up at the cracked ceiling of Persephone’s greenhouse. Burnt vines wrap the walls and climb towards the artificial lights of Hadestown. “Plants don’t grow towards neon the way they do the sun,” Persephone had said. “Not even when coerced by a goddess.” Still, the abandoned buildings provide decent shelter, which is far better than the rest of the underworld. Instead of trapping the heat, the roof overhead seems to keep in the cold.

Eurydice glances at Orpheus. Even in the cool of the greenhouse, he sweats in his sleep. He’s exhausted and hungry, she knows, but they have no outside food. If he eats the food of Hadestown, she fears it’ll bind him to the damned place, just as Hades's pomegranate seeds had bound Persephone.

Orpheus rolls over. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Eurydice keeps a closer eye on him. “Persephone?” she asks.

“Hm?” The goddess responds.

“What will Hades do if he catches us? I know the stories… Sisyphus, pushing his stone uphill forever. Tantalus, starved, with food just out of reach. Eternal torture. Is that what lies ahead?” Her voice doesn’t quiver. She finds she isn’t afraid of the answer, not after the mines. Hours and hours of her pickaxe against stone. And once she’d finished, she’d be building Hades’ wall or laying wires or partaking in some other pointless feat. Everyone in Hadestown feels like Sisyphus now.

“It’s best… it’s best if you don’t think about it.” Persephone sips from her canteen. Alcohol, certainly. Her voice has a drunken lisp to it.

“I want to know what’s at stake,” Eurydice says. Orpheus again tosses in his sleep.

“Eternal torture sums it up fine," Persephone answers, bluntly.

“He’ll separate us, won’t he?”

Persephone shrugs. “Your contract will change. All of ours’ will. Probably a ban from speaking to each other.”

“What can he do to stop us?” Achilles mutters. “We’re dead already and he took our paradise. I can bear his whip, his mines. This whole place is torture.”

“Tell me about it.” Persephone rolls her eyes. “A goddess of spring, confined to… this.” She gestures around her.

“They say you loved him,” Eurydice says.

“Loved him. An emphasis on loved.” She takes another sip of her alcohol and slips off her wedding band. She flips it in the air and catches it. “I chose this. I chose Hades over light. Over life and clean air and springtime. I preferred Hades’s tyranny to Demeter’s. That dance… it almost felt like a fresh start. But what did I expect?” She takes a withered vine between her fingers. “This is futile. We should be planning. This place sucks the life out of everything it touches. Our poet included.”

Orpheus gasps. “Speaking of our poet, he’s awake!” She tilts her head. “You alright?” Eurydice asks.

Orpheus swallows. His eyes are wide and his breaths quick. He shakes his head. “No… no. You need to go. All of you.”

“Hey,” she rests her palm over his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. You need rest.”

He wipes his eyes. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand! Go. Please Eurydice. Please.”

“Shh… shh. You’re alright.”

He snatches his hand away. “No. I’m not. It’s… it’s too far. I’ll be… dead by the time we reach the Styx.”

“Orpheus! Don’t talk like that. We’re gonna make it.”

“No, we aren’t. Hades is going to find me and he’ll kill me because I… I can’t do this. I can’t walk alone and I’m not allowed to sing and whatever he did to me…”

“Orpheus, look at me. You’re gonna be fine," Eurydice says, firmly. 

“It’s not over, okay? I… I should’ve told you but…”

“What are you talking about, Orpheus? What is this?”

He sobs and sinks into her arms. “I feel worse. Eurydice, I’m getting worse,” he whispers.

“Once we’re out-“

“Once you’re out. Leave me here," he begs.

“How can you say that? I’m not letting Hades have you!” Eurydice raises her voice.

“I came for you. And now… you’re dragging me out. I’m useless and I’m holding you back. Eurydice, I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t… if…”

“We’re going to get out of here.”

“Would you listen to me?” he shouts. “We are not going to get out of here. Not so long as you’re carrying dead weight! I…” he tries to push himself upright but sinks back into Eurydice’s embrace. “I can’t sing. I can’t walk. I can’t even stand.”

She doesn’t respond. She just holds him, tight in her arms. “I don’t care,” she whispers. “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. I love you and I’m never letting you go again. I promise.”

Orpheus says nothing. “Orpheus?”

She lifts him up and his chin falls against his chest. “Orpheus… no. No, you can’t do this to me.” She places a finger under his nose and feels his shallow breaths. She breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re alright. You’re alright.” She isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince herself or Orpheus, who cannot hear her. She lays his head back down on his coat, a makeshift pillow.

Patroclus kneels at her side. “Orpheus is right. He is getting worse.”

“What’s wrong with him?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “He could be ill with some plague, but that’s Apollo’s domain, not Hades’s. Maybe he is only hungry or dehydrated. Regardless, he’s right that he won’t last forever down here. We should get moving.” Eurydice nods. “I wish I could be more help.”

“Someone’s here!” Achilles shouts from his watch-post at the door. Patroclus leaps to his feet.

“Protect Orpheus,” he commands Eurydice and Persephone.

“If it’s my husband,” Persephone growls, “I’ll deal with him.”

Patroclus nods and returns to Achilles.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hades sits beside his office window. He’d given the orders in the morning: kill Orpheus. If the boy dies, his killer will not be asked to work for the rest of their time in the underworld. His plan would soon succeed. His shades would end the fool’s life and finally, finally, Hades would have his kingdom back. It had only been 48 hours or so since Orpheus’s failed serenade, but it had felt like an eternity.

Hades reaches for his wine glass. The portrait he’d torn from the wall catches his eye. Persephone, smiling, a babe at her knee. It had been a long while since he’d seen that child. Dionysus, God of Wine and Madness. He visited the underworld plenty, once or more every winter. Never the tower, though. He only knew the boy had come by because his wife would return, drunk out of her mind. He’d drag her to bed and every time, he’d bribe Hypnos to keep his dear Persephone asleep an extra few hours, to let her sleep off the hangover. Dionysus could wash away her intoxication with a wave of his hand. He used to. But for a long while now, she’d return drunk. Upon her request, Hades knew. He tried now not to feel the sting of this fact. His own wife would rather be blackout drunk than speak to him.

Still, he loves her. He’d laid a thousand miles of wires to brighten his kingdom, to mimic the sun she so loved. And she’d complained it was too bright. He’d let her have a wide stretch of land to attempt to grow a garden. He’d tended it with her, but still, the plants wilted. And now he had let Orpheus tear out his heart for Persephone. He’d done everything for her, nearly lost everything for her, and still, she hates him.

Hades lifts the painting from the ground and lays it across his desk. He sees his labors. To keep his hold on the underworld and his wife’s affection, if she has any left. He must prioritize his realm. He loves her, more than any kingdom, but the binds of death must not be unwound, Hades knows. The mortal realm his wife so loves would wither without death. It cannot be overrun by fleeing shades. His kingdom is his responsibility. And he must keep it in check. He tucks the painting into a drawer, gone from sight, gone from mind.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermes was beginning to wonder if Zeus could think up a worse punishment for his betrayal of contract than his current circumstances. Dionysus tips his head back and chugs another flask of wine. “Want some?” he offers, for what must be the thousandth time.

Hermes sighs. “Yes.”

“Aha! Finally! The best of the best for you, my friend.” He holds out the flask and curtseys, sloshing wine over his tunic.

Hermes pinches the bridge of his nose. “Read the room,” he mutters.

“What?”

“I said thanks,” he lies. He takes a sip. The wine is incredible, better than any mortal’s best vintage.

“My dear flower, light in my eye, the sun to my sky…” Apollo recites.

Hermes wants to scream. His son is probably miserable, cast into Tartarus or locked in a cell somewhere, and here he is, listening to Apollo memorizing lines for Hyacinthus, who’s probably so deep under the Lethe’s amnesia that he won’t remember who the god is. He takes another sip of wine. “Dionysus!”

“Yes?” Dionysus laughs.

Hermes grits his teeth. Intoxication is no help to Dionysus’s ability to understand the severity of the situation. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll undo the effects of your alcohol on me before we get to Hadestown.”

“Sure.”

“Excellent. Now, do you have something stronger?”

“‘Course! Here.”

Hermes drinks. The alcohol burns his throat. He forces himself not to cough.

“Too strong?”

“Mm.” Hermes clears his thoat. “Not at all.” He finishes the flask.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Show yourself!” Achilles shouts. Patroclus stands back to back with him, armed with a pickaxe from the mines.

“I don’t think you’re in much of a place to be making demands.” The voice echoes from every corner of the greenhouse.

“Funny, I disagree.” Achilles whirls and throws his pickaxe through the man’s chest. His body dissolves as if it’s made of smoke.

“Could’ve questioned him,” Patroclus says.

“What would we ask? ‘Who sent you?’ Take a wild guess.”

Patroclus shrugs. “There’ll be more of them.”

“So we don’t let our guard down. Let’s get going, Pa-“

“Argh!” he yelps.

“Patroclus!” Achilles whirls. A bowman from the roof. “To cover!” He grabs his lover’s hands and drags him to the nearest wall, out of the range of the archer’s arrows.

Patroclus clutches his shoulder. “If I hadn’t moved, that would’ve gone through my chest,” he states. “Warn Persephone. I’m alright.”

Achilles nods. “Keep your eyes open. There’s no way he’s alone. I won’t be long.”

He runs along the wall. He glances up at the ceiling. The archer is gone. He runs for the exit, then the entrance to Persephone’s greenhouse, the next building over. An arrow strikes the ground at his feet. He dives through the door and slams it behind him. “We were followed,” he announces.

“So we discovered.” Persephone’s vines wrap the ground and up the wall, where a man dangles by his wrists. “Orpheus is-“

The door opens, Patroclus stands in its frame. Achilles runs to his side. “I told you to stay behind.”

“There’s more of them. They were going for a better shot on me, so I ran.”

“Your arm…”

“Is fine.” Patroclus answers. “Where’s Orpheus?”

“Here! A hand, one of you?” Eurydice calls from the opposite wall. “He’s hit.” They both run for Orpheus.

Persephone’s captive screams. “I’ll ask again. Who sent you?”

“Hades!” The man yelps. “Please!”

“I knew it,” she snarls. “His orders. What were they? Be exact.”

“Not orders, a deal! Any man who kills Orpheus won’t have to work for the rest of eternity.”

“How many are after him?”

“I don’t know!” he cries. “Please!”

She tightens the vines around his throat and the man vanishes into ashes.

“Is he breathing?” she calls to Orpheus’s aids.

“Yes,” Patroclus replies. “He’s only been hit in the leg.”

Persephone nods. “I’ll hold the doors.”

Orpheus groans. “I know, I know,” Eurydice murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“I need to get the arrow out. Give him something to bite down on,” Patroclus tells her.

She stuffs a piece of cloth into his mouth. “Bite.” He does.

“Hold him down.” Orpheus screams. “Almost there. And it’s out. Hold pressure. Right here.” He guides Eurydice’s hands over the wound. “Press hard, don’t let up,” he tells her. “I know it hurts, Orpheus. Focus on Eurydice.”

“O-okay,” Orpheus chokes out.

“Achilles, we’ll need strips of fabric. One of our blankets should be fine. Tie a tourniquet above his wound. Apply pressure. The bleeding will stop.”

Achilles begins to tear a sheet. “Your shoulder, Pat.”

“I’m alright.” He presses a hand against it.

“No, there’s an arrow through your arm. And love, that’s what Hades has on us. If you die, you’re stuck on the banks of the Styx forever, no change to get back across to me. I’m afraid… we’d never see each other again. An eternity without you… I don’t want to imagine it.”

“Okay, okay. Give me a piece of that blanket.” Achilles does. “When I take the arrow out, it’ll bleed. If anything happens, I’d recommend you leave me behind. Hades might let me live, if I say I’ll give him information and you won’t be burdened to carry me.”

“You know I won’t leave you here.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be fruitless," Patroclus says.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” Persephone calls. Achilles stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Patroclus.

“Look.” Persephone points at the roof. An arrow whizzes and the bowman standing on it falls. “Someone wants us to make it out.”

“Or someone wants to take us alive,” he says, grimly.

Something drifts down from overhead. A scrap of fabric, maybe. It lands at Persephone’s feet. A cloth carnation. Beneath it, a note: 'Hermes is coming.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated but my phone really wants to autocorrect “Orpheus” to “Orange,” which makes for a whole different story, honestly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A slightly more entertaining synopsis) Hades is having a midlife crisis about the fact that his wife would rather be hungover than speak with him. Instead of getting a therapist, he decides murdering a very tired teenager is a far better coping mechanism. Hermes is so tired of his travel companions, Dionysus and Apollo, he gets hella drunk. Orpheus is blaming himself for the difficulty of their journey. He’s kinda losing it. He feels terrible that he let Eurydice die and now he must ask her to drag him out of Hadestown, given that he was shot in the leg by a would-be assassin. Eurydice is trying to keep Orpheus motivated to get out of Hadestown. It is going about as well as the rest of their escape attempt. Achilles is worrying about Patroclus, who was shot in the shoulder while defending Orpheus. Patroclus is trying to get him to shut up. The workers are taking sides. (Which must be fun because their choices are losing-it Hades or losing-it Orpheus. Then again, Hades wants to murder a kid and Orpheus just wants to not get murdered.)

“Orpheus, how are you doing?” Eurydice asks again. They hadn’t made it very far. In fact, the greenhouses are still in sight. She tries to ignore this fact.

He looks up at her with sunken eyes. “Please… can we… can we rest soon?”

“A little farther,” Eurydice tells him. “How’s your leg?”

“It hurts. Please, Eurydice… can we sit down?”

“Soon, baby, soon.” She’s afraid that if he sits, he won’t stand again.

“I’m so tired, Eurydice. My stomach hurts. I can’t remember the last time I ate. Explain again why I can’t eat with you? I can’t remember what you told me.”

She sighs. “The living can’t eat the food of the dead because they’ll end up stuck down here.”

He swallows. “I… I don’t care.” His legs buckle under him and Eurydice catches him before he falls. “I’ll work for Hades. I’ll do anything. Just something to eat. Please…” he implores her.

“Hold up,” Eurydice calls to Persephone. “We can sit, Orpheus.” She lowers him to the ground. He winces. “Please don’t talk like that. I can’t lose you down here, love.”

“I can’t do this.” She pulls him into her arms.

“We’ll do it together, step by step.”

He shakes his head against her chest. “I… I can’t. I can’t. Every step is torture. I just want to close my eyes and…” he sighs softly. “Never… open them… again.” His voice trails off.

“I know it’s hard, but you can’t give up now! You came all this way!”

“I’m too tired to walk any more. Let me sleep… please…” His eyelids are heavy. So heavy… He closes his eyes.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orpheus blinks. He’s laying on a cold stone floor. Eurydice is nowhere in sight. He calls out to her.

‘Eurydice… Eurydice… Eurydice.’ The walls echo.

“Hello?”

‘Hello? Hello? hello…’

“Orpheus.”

He shudders at the sound of the cruel, almost harmonic voice. It doesn’t echo as his does. “Who’s there?”

“Who’s there! Who’s there? who’s there…’

“There is no escape.” His breaths are slow and strained. The air is rancid. It smells of death. And his leg hurts. Gods, his whole body hurts. “You belong to Hades now.”

“I’m not dead!” Orpheus begs.

‘I’m not dead! I’m not dead. I’m not dead…’ his echo mocks.

“The King of the Underworld will see you now.”

The door to Orpheus’s cell creaks open. He tries to scramble backwards, but his wrists are shackled to the ground. Hades stands in the doorframe. He smirks. “You failed.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “No… no… I don’t understand! I didn’t break your rules! I didn’t sing.”

Hades strides to his side and takes a knee. He lifts Orpheus’s head to face him. “What don’t you understand? No one leaves Hadestown.”

“Please…”

“Your little muse watched you turn to dust. Must’ve broken her heart.”

Orpheus buries his head in his hands. He lets tears streak down his cheeks as he curls up on the floor. “Let me go. I’m not dead. I’m not dead!” he shouts.

“The girl, Eurydice. And your protectors, Achilles, Patroclus, my wife, they’ve still got a chance. I could call off my shades, boy, if only you’ll agree to my terms.”

“Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt them… please…” he moans.

“That’s up to you, Orpheus.”

“Let me out of here!” He wails.

“Enough!”

Orpheus clutches his head. “Argh!” he cries.

“Do you want to be agreeable, or do you prefer this?”

Orpheus rolls onto his side. His head feels like it’s going to explode. “S-stop…” he groans. The pain fades.

“Do we have a deal or don’t we?” Hades growls.

Orpheus gasps for breath. “What… terms?” he chokes.

“You,” Hades presses a finger into his chest. “Help me get this place under control. Your song’s powerful, boy.”

“H-how?”

“Write a song for the shades. Make them listen to you. And I’ll let your friends go.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “Why should I trust you? You gave me one rule. I didn’t break it, so you killed me.”

“Because if you don’t, Eurydice is mine. Patroclus and Achilles will never see each other again. And Persephone will be left all alone. She’ll be forced to return to me.”

“I’m not yours to control. The workers aren’t yours to control!” Orpheus sits upright. His head spins. “Let me go.”

Hades smiles. “Fool.” He rises and slams the cell door behind him.

“Wait!” He shouts. There’s no reply.

Orpheus strains against his chains. His ankles are bound, and his wrists. He tries to pull the shackles off over his hands, but to no avail. He sinks to the ground. Every breath burns his lungs. He feels like he’s suffocating. The cell is dark as pitch and he can’t see an inch in front of him. The bandages around his leg had been torn off at some point. He feels his blood pooling under him. He wraps his hands over his head and sobs. He rocks back and forth against the floor until he has no more tears to cry.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Orpheus?” Patroclus places a finger against the poet’s neck. “I can feel his pulse. It’s slow. He’s barely breathing.”

“Unconscious?” Achilles asks.

“I… don’t know. He’s not getting in enough air to keep his heart beating, but he’s not dead.”

“What do we do?” Eurydice whispers. “He can’t die now… not after all he’s gone through.”

“We carry him?” Patroclus suggests. “I don’t see what else we can do.”

“With haste.” Persephone adds, “Like the plants in my greenhouse, he can’t hang on forever.”

“Where do we take him? We won’t be allowed across the Styx,” Achilles says.

“Away from Hades,” Persephone responds. “Hermes can help us get him home, if that message is to be trusted. Regardless, we can deal with the Styx once we get there. It’s a week’s walk. Maybe longer, carrying Orpheus.”

“Can he hold on that long?” Eurydice asks.

Persephone sighs. “I hope so.” She lays out a blanket. “This’ll do for a stretcher until we find something better.” She lifts Orpheus onto it. She takes one end of the blanket and Achilles takes the other. “Eurydice, watch Orpheus. If anything changes, speak up. Patroclus, keep look out.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hermes stumbles along the road, a much more bearable journey while drunk. Really drunk. So drunk that Apollo’s poetry brings tears to his eyes where normally, he’d probably want to throw himself off a cliff by this point, envying Hephaestus.

He half-remembers what he’s doing. Finding Orpheus. Where had the kid gone? He isn’t sure. He feels bad to come home drunk, though. Orpheus had always hated the scent of alcohol on his breath when he returned after a night out at the bar. The boy’s mother, Calliope, had smelled of wine last he’d seen her. A painful reminder of his childhood abandonment to smell it on the man he called father. Of course, Hermes didn’t blame the muse for leaving the boy behind. A single mother, all alone in the rain and storms, with Apollo as the boy’s father? It had been for Orpheus’s good that she’d given him up. Protection from Apollo’s unpredictably.

“Hey, Hermes! We’re here.” Dionysus says, waving a hand in front of Hermes’s face.

He blinks and his intoxication melts away. The railroad stretches out before them, spanning far beyond the horizon. A line of mortals stands along the track, slowly boarding the train. Thanatos takes their tickets. “I ask you again, Hermes, can’t you get out of those damn meetings?” he calls.

Hermes smiles. “I wish I could. Tickets for three, Thanatos.”

“Ah Dionysus, come to see your mother. Say hello to Hypnos for me, if you see him. I’ve been busy lately. And you, Apollo?”

“Working for Demeter,” Apollo says, “Persephone’s late again and she’s tired of waiting. Looks like I’m the only expendable Olympian these days.”

Thanatos nods. “If you plan of convincing Hades to send her back… well, best of luck to you. I wouldn’t cross him like this.”

“What’s happened?” Hermes asks.

“You don’t know?” Thanatos inquires. “Isn’t Orpheus your kid?”

“Mine, actually,” Apollo interrupts.

“Yes, I raised the boy,” Hermes explains. “Is he alright?” He already knows the answer.

“Listen, I’m sure you knew he was going to look for her. He almost made it but…" He pauses. "Hermes, we should speak. Alone.”

Hermes nods. Dionysus takes over ticket collection, grinning at the shades.

Thanatos glances over his shoulder. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but you’ve done me plenty of favors. Don’t tell Hades, alright?”

“Of course,” Hermes agrees. “What happened?”

“Orpheus made it to the throne hall,” Thanatos begins. “He sang a song. I’d never heard anything like it. Hermes, flowers bloomed. Flowers. In Hadestown. Hades seemed moved by the boy’s melody. The poor kid was half-starved though. And I’ve never seen someone so exhausted. He passed out. It broke the charm of his song. He woke pretty quickly, but not fast enough. Hades told him he could leave, but his terms were meant to be impossible. Orpheus wouldn’t be allowed to look at his lover, nor touch her. And he couldn’t sing until he’d made it out.”

Thanatos sighs. “Poor boy. He didn’t have a choice. He was far too weary to stand on his own. He was leaned up against the girl. Hades called he deal broken and… I’ve never heard someone scream like that. Persephone talked him down and Orpheus escaped with his life, only singing was forbidden. Persephone left with him.”

“The order went out the day before last: kill him. To every shade in Hadestown, after I refused to do it myself. And yesterday… I wasn’t granted a second choice. It was kill Orpheus, or lose my home. Funny, I thought I commanded a little more respect than that," he scoffs. "But I couldn’t refuse so I went and found the poor kid. I saw how desperate he looked, staring up at his lover.” Thanatos pauses for a second. “I gave Hades his soul, but I didn’t end the boy’s life. His mind is locked up in a cell somewhere, but his body is still breathing. I guess he’s somewhere between life and death. I don’t know how else to explain it. Gods, Hermes, I’m sorry. I live with my brother though... and his wife. Hypnos and Pasithea shouldn’t have to reestablish their lives somewhere else, not because of me.”

“That’s worse than I could’ve expected,” Hermes mutters. “Hades cared once. For his wife, for his realm, for his people.”

“I’ll get you as close as I can to your boy,” Thanatos promises. “Hades will eventually notice that he isn’t really dead. You need to move quickly. Apollo’s medical abilities should be enough to return him to life.”

Hermes nods. “Thank you, Thanatos.”

“Now, let’s get going. These shades can wait.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Orpheus opens his eyes. It hardly matters. His cell is too dark to see a thing, eyes closed or open. His wrists are rubbed bloody by his repeated attempts at escape. His throat burns with his every breath of the awful underworld air. It’s more smog and death than it is oxygen.

His mind is hazy. He remembers a long walk. He’d been looking for someone. Further details are lost to the fog of the Lethe.

The first night, he’d desperately tried to escape his cage, Orpheus remembers. The second, he’d sang until he couldn’t make a sound. The third, he’d heard voices. He’d begged for food or a sip of water. He’d received nothing. Was this the fourth or the fifth? He couldn’t remember.

He’d forgotten his song, note by note. He’d scratched it into the floor with the edge of his chains, but when he draws his fingers across the lines of his music now, he finds it means nothing to him. Dots and lines, not notes. To think that it had once been a language to him… he vaguely remembers sitting by a fire, scribbling down those very same lines for the hundredth time on crumpled papers, soft from being folded.

This is his eternity, Orpheus knows. He’d given up hope of escape or rescue. Hades would keep him here, alone and in pain forever. No food, no water, his restless sleep woken by the echoing screams of his fellow prisoners. Hades. The only name he remembers. His prison warden.

What had he done wrong? Orpheus wonders. How had he ended up here? What great cruelty had he committed?

“Eternity.” Orpheus rasps.

‘Eternity. Eternity. Eternity. Eternity. Eternity.’ The echo of his voice bounces down the hall.

He shivers. Sweat beads his forehead. His shuddering breaths are heard only by the stones. He lays there a moment, silent and unmoving.

Light washes across his cheeks. He shields his eyes. “You.” The voice that greets him is gravelly and cold.

“Who am I?” Orpheus whispers, desperately.

The man smiles. “A shade like any other.”

“No… I am someone.” Orpheus takes in a shaky breath. “Or… I was.”

“Now you are mine,” Hades states.

“All of those shades were people once," he realizes.

Hades nods. “And now they are mine.”

Orpheus blinks. The light spilling in through the doorway is blinding. His eyes slowly adjust to the new brightness. He recognizes his visitor now, Hades, king of shadows, king of shades, a red carnation in his front pocket.

His memories flood back to him suddenly. His song. He sits up, weakly, but he lifts his head and… “King of shadows,” he croaks, “King of shades. Hades is King of the Underworld.”

Anxiety flutters through the god’s eyes. “You…”

“He fell in love with a beautiful lady. Who walked up above, in her mother’s green fields.” His voice cannot reach as high as it once did, but still he sings, quietly, in a lower tone. “He fell in love with Persephone, who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun.”

“Enough!” Hades snaps.

Orpheus continues. “And I know how it was because…” he remembers her face. Eurydice, the love of his life. “He was like me. A man… in love with a woman.”

Hades glares at him, but the god doesn’t move, he doesn’t react, so Orpheus doesn’t hesitate. “Singing… la la la la la la la.” He stops singing, smiling ever so slightly. More than he had for days. “You still love her.”

Hades nods.

“Why then, do you take everything from her?”

He is silent.

“Her wedding ring is as heavy as shackles around her wrists.”

Hades opens his mouth, as if to speak. No sound comes out.

The words fall from Orpheus’s mouth before he has a chance to consider them. “Let her go.”

“She would flee.”

“Perhaps.”

“I would be confined to the underworld. An eternity without solace,” Hades says.

“Maybe. But love is… love is doing what’s right. Even if it hurts.” He thinks of his walk to Hadestown. His long, long walk.

“There is no love if she is not by my side.”

“If you care so deeply for her, give her what she desires: freedom. Hades, she doesn’t want to be locked up, the only key around your neck.”

Hades says nothing.

“You do everything for her. You give her everything.” Hades nods. “Except for what she needs. She loved you because she had a choice. What became of your love, King Hades? What became of her choice?”

“She promised me eternity.”

“And you promised her six months up above. Promises are breakable. Now Persephone’s just another slave to your electric city.”

“You know nothing of my wife, boy,” Hades growls.

Orpheus sighs. “I know of your workers,” he rasps. “How they toil endlessly for no reward. Meager rations, and worse pay. They have nothing and you have everything. They flock to your wife because she is a light in the dark. The darkness you created. What happened to justice? Fair contracts? The man Persephone loved is gone,” he finishes. He sinks back to the ground, one hand laid across the music inscribed on the dusty floor.

Hades rises. The door clangs shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction was supposed to be a warm-up for my main writing piece. Low quality and short. Only one of those things is true.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades’s coping method of murdering people is somehow making him feel worse. Now that he has Orpheus locked up, he has to confront his emotions (O, the horror). Thanatos, God of Death quietly refuses to kill Orpheus, leaving him balancing a thin line between life and death. Orpheus ends up in a dark prison, where his only interactions are with Hades. He’s alone and afraid and he’s lost track of how long he’s been locked away. His memory is hazy. He’s lost hope for any chance of rescue. Eurydice is increasingly worried about Orpheus. He’s breathing, half-alive, but she doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold on for long. Persephone is tired of her husband. Achilles and Patroclus are debating whether or not they should cross the Styx and live in the overworld again, given that they have no home and no living family or friends outside. Hermes, Dionysus and Apollo have finally reached the edge of the Styx.

The train squeals to a halt. Thanatos pulls the doors open. Dionysus and Apollo step out first. “Best of luck,” the God of Death mutters to Hermes. He nods.

The Styx stretches out before them, its dark waters flow in torrents. Beyond it, Hades’s wall rises high. “This is the underworld, huh?” Apollo shifts his footing. “It’s hotter than I expected. And… darker.”

Dionysus kneels at the bank of the Styx. “Just like I remembered,” he says with a smile. “Cerberus!” he calls.

Apollo just about collapses in fright as the dog trots to Dionysus’s side. “Hey buddy!” Dionysus has to stand on his tippy-toes to scratch behind one of Cerberus’s six ears. “How’s mama? I hope father is treating you well.”

Cerberus notices Dionysus’s companions and growls, loud and deep. “Oh hush. They’re with me. You know Hermes.” Hermes nods, keeping adequate distance between himself and the massive canine. “And that’s Apollo. He’s new.”

Apollo is silent for once.

“If mama’s doing okay, I’ll be back later!” He lowers his voice. “Cerb, I know things have been rough. And I know Hades has been… well… if you see him, give him some love for me. Now. Can we cross?” Cerberus steps back. Dionysus smiles. “Thanks buddy.”

He beckons to Hermes and Apollo. He turns back to the Styx and grape vines spring from the ground, weaving their way across the river as if to form a bridge. Hermes grabs Apollo’s wrist. “Come on. Can’t stand around gawking all day.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The farther they’d come from heart of Hadestown, the clearer the air had become. Orpheus breaths no easier, Eurydice notes. They’d walked four days since he’d passed out and his condition hadn’t improved.

Eurydice sits against a rock. She hums the notes of Orpheus’s song to herself. It’s easier to remember her goal with his song, she’s found. His lyre sits in her lap. She wishes she knew how to play.

“How far’s the Styx?” she asks Persephone.

“A three days’ walk. We’re close.”

“Will he wake when we’re out of here?” Eurydice already knows the answer.

“I don’t know. Get some sleep. The closer we get to the outside world, the more you’ll need to act like a mortal. You aren’t as much a shade as you were in the mines.”

Eurydice nods and closes her eyes.

Achilles and Patroclus take the first watch while their companions sleep.

“How’s your shoulder?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus shrugs. “Better, I suppose.”

“We’ll reach the Styx soon,” Achilles says. “Will you cross?”

“You weren’t planning to?” Patroclus asks, surprised.

“What’s out there for us? The war is over, everyone we knew is long dead. We’re dirt-poor. Where would we go?”

“Persephone would provide for us. Achilles, if we stay here… We can’t fight the Lethe forever. Hades would separate us and our memories would fade until we’d be forced to join the ranks of the shades as two more broken-spirited nobodies!”

Achilles sighs. “We’d have to work every second of our lives if we left.”

“We could work together, at least.”

He nods. “I guess anything is better than this.”

“And this is almost over.” Patroclus smiles. “We’ll get to see the sun and the stars again. I miss stargazing with you. Watching the sunrise. I miss… living, Achilles.”

“I miss it as well. I never got a chance to say goodbye to life. After I lost you, I didn’t think about living anymore. I just wanted to see you again. Sometimes I wish… after all this time down here… that I’d really appreciated what I had before I lost it. It would be easier to remember.”

“I feel the same about Elysium,” Patroclus says. “Hades took everything from us. We had a future ahead of us, an eternity in paridise.”

“We’re always fighting to keep what we can’t have. You died for me. We thought it was over. Then Hades took Elysium and we fought all over again to keep our paradise. And when we lost, we fought to keep our memories. You think it’ll be different this time?” Achilles asks.

“All we can do is hope.”

Achilles nods. They look up at the empty sky, hand in hand.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orpheus coughs. Four days? Five days? A month? He doesn’t remember how long he’s been here. There are shouts from the neighboring cell. At least it’s something to listen to.

“You know why you’re here?” A woman’s voice trills.

“No!” A man shouts. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“They say you have a connection to the Olympians.”

“That isn’t true!” He shouts.

“They want the boy back. The poet boy. You’re a spy,” she accuses.

“No, no I’m not! You don’t underst-“

There’s a sharp crack. Orpheus winces.

“Ugh…”

Orpheus hears the man slide down his cell’s wall.

“I’m no spy,” he pleads. His voice sounds as if he’s holding his nose.

“Liar. You were once a lover of Apollo. You’re aiding him.”

The man’s breaths are heavy. “I can’t remember anything.”

“You heard the song.”

“How long ago was that?” he groans. “I can’t remember a thing. If wanted to help, I couldn’t. And why would I? Whoever I loved, he let me die.”

“Get up, pathetic boy.”

Orpheus hears his shuffling against the stones.

“I’ll take double shifts at the mines. Let me out of here, please,” the man begs.

“We’ll talk when you’re ready to tell me the truth.” The door clangs shut. The woman’s footsteps fade down the hall. Orpheus hears a whimper of pain.

“Hey,” he mumbles, desperate to speak to someone, “I won’t lie, it doesn’t get easier.”

“Do I know you?” The man asks through the wall.

“I couldn’t say. I… I don’t remember much,” Orpheus admits. He’d tried his best to repeat names and events to himself, but eventually he’d fallen asleep and forgotten what he was meant to be repeating.

“You sound familiar.”

“If you remember my name… I’d like to know,” Orpheus whispers.

“I’ll tell you.”

Orpheus’s cell door opens, bathing him in dull neon lights. He doesn’t react.

“Orpheus,” his visitor says. His name, he realizes.

“Hades,” he rasps.

The god sits beside him.

“This is my eternity.” Orpheus’s voice is empty, devoid of emotion. He doesn’t open his eyes.

Hades looks at the boy. He hates the way Orpheus controls him. He hates that song that can wake his soul. But he wants to hear it again. “Look at me.”

Orpheus looks. Hades sits before him, twice. He’s seeing double, he notices.

“Sing your pretty little song,” Hades demands.

“I…” Orpheus sighs. “I don’t remember it.”

“You remembered last time. Sing.”

Orpheus turns away. “No,” he whimpers. “If I do…” A little sob escapes his lips. “I’ll just forget again. And again. And again!” He yells. “I don’t want to remember, only to forget all over again.” He lifts his head. “Give me oblivion. Throw me to the mines. Anything but this.”

“I said,” Hades growls, “sing.”

A wave of nausea hits him. He presses his head against the ground. “La… la la…” he coughs. His chest heaves with effort.

“Sing, boy!”

“La… la…” Orpheus chokes on the underworld air. He coughs and coughs until he’s too weak to cough anymore. Hades face spins before him. Tears sting his eyes. “I… I can’t.”

Hades stands. He watches Orpheus, shaking with sobs. He takes a step back. “No…” Orpheus whispers. “Please don’t leave me here.”

Hades’s shoulders sink. He kneels at the poet’s side. He takes a flask of Dionysus’s alcohol from his pocket and unscrews the cap. He lifts Orpheus effortlessly and holds the bottle against the boy’s lips. “Drink.” He tilts the flask and Orpheus swallows. He pushes Orpheus’s matted hair out of his eyes.

“T-thank you.” Orpheus whispers.

Hades wraps his coat around Orpheus’s shaking body. “You… You’re alright. Breathe, kid.”

“I… I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Just relax.” Hades holds Orpheus awkwardly. “Listen. I… I’m not coming back here. Just go, kid.”

Hades twists a key into the locks binding Orpheus’s wrists. The chains fall away. He slumps into Hades arms. The King of the Dead lets Orpheus stay there for a moment. Then he lays he boy on the ground again, still bundled in his coat. He leaves the door open behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the inevitable errors! I tended to write this late at night and I'm really supposed to be working on something else, so I can't afford too much time to edit!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orpheus is stuck in Hades’s prison. His attempts to escape are fruitless as he’s too weak to walk, even though his cell is open now. Hades is contending with his emotions by forcing a very sick kid to sing for him until Orph starts crying. Hermes, Apollo and Dionysus are finally making forward progress. Persephone is out of wine. Achilles and Patroclus have decided that they actually do want to get out of here. Eurydice is increasingly worried about Orpheus, who is half-dead but she doesn’t know this information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Blood

Persephone had taken the last watch of the night. She’d run out of wine the previous morning and being sober made it easier to think. It also forced her to remember her husband. What had she seen in him? Persephone wonders. Hades, who kept her locked away like a bird in a cage.

The sound of footsteps pulls her from her thoughts. She shakes Eurydice awake and calls to Achilles and Patroclus. “Someone’s coming! Take Orpheus and run.”

“I can fight,” Achilles says. “Patroclus, help Eurydice.”

“Persephone?” A voice calls.

“Dionysus?” Persephone responds, moving towards it warily.

“Mom!” he waves.

“Dionysus. Didn’t I tell you never, ever to come down here again? What don’t you understand about ‘no’?”

“It’s not his fault,” Hermes speaks up. “Where’s Orpheus?”

“And you brought half of Olympus with you.” She shakes her head. “Follow Achilles, Hermes. Apollo, what are you doing here?”

“My lover, Hyacinthus, have you seen him?” Apollo pleads.

“I’m sure I have. There are more important matters at hand, Apollo. Best of luck talking Hades down.”

“You won’t help?” he asks, horrified.

“No. I’m not going back. I don’t belong down here.”

He sighs. “I know the feeling.”

Eurydice and Patroclus set Orpheus down at the sound of the commotion.

“Eurydice!” Hermes calls.

“You came?” she asks.

He runs to her side. “He’s breathing. Thank the gods.”

“He’s been like this for five days, Hermes.” She blinks back tears. “Will he… will he wake when we cross the Styx?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Tell me how to get him to wake up. I’d go to the ends of the world for him. Hermes, I love him. He can’t die.”

“Shhh… I know, I know. Cross the Styx. I’ll handle the rest. Let’s get back to the others.”

Hermes helps carry Orpheus back to camp.

“Apollo!” Hermes says, “We can’t waste time. We’ve gotta go. Right now. Listen, Persephone, Hades has Orpheus’s shade. It’s too much to explain right now, but I need to find him. You need to get across the Styx.”

Persephone nods. “If we leave now, it won’t be long before we arrive at the banks. Hermes, it’s a long road to Hadestown. That’s where Orpheus will be.”

“I’m the god of haste,” he says with a smile. “I’ll find him.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orpheus sits against the wall, staring out the door of his cell. He’s free. No chains, no locked door. But he’s still here. And he has been for hours. He’d tried to crawl out of his cell, but his leg had stopped him. It’s still bleeding, he notices. He doesn’t have the energy to try to stop it. The blood loss is making him dizzier than usual.

The door to the cell beside him opens, and a woman enters, seemingly without noticing he is freed from his bindings. His neighbor begs for mercy. Then he shouts in pain. Orpheus hears his gasping breaths.The door closes.

The woman begins to march down the hall. She’s nearly out of sight when stops and turns around. Her shadow fills his cell suddenly. “How did you get his open?” she questions him.

“Hades,” Orpheus mumbles. “Hades opened it.”

She grabs the collar of his torn shirt. “Liar!” She spits. She turns up her nose. “You smell of life.”

Orpheus coughs. She smirks. “You aren’t dead.”

“What?” he rasps.

“A living boy in the realm of the dead. Hades will hear of this.” The door slams shut behind her.

The man in the neighboring cell groans. “You okay?” Orpheus asks. He isn’t sure why he bothers.

“Ugh… yeah… yeah. She kicked me in the stomach.” He gasps out. “Hey, wait… Are you… I do know you!” he exclaims. “You’re Apollo’s kid! Orpheus! I knew your father. My name… my name is Hyacinthus.”

“My name is… Orpheus,” he remembers. “I was shot in the leg trying to get out of here. I can’t remember how I…”

“She said you weren’t dead.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you’re dead?” Hyacinthus asks.

Orpheus closes his eyes. “What does it matter?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hades hears a knock at his office door. “Come in,” he calls, dropping his pen back into a jar of writing instruments.

“Hades, it’s the boy. The thorn in our side. Orpheus lives.”

He looks up. “Thanatos-”

“Thanatos lied, as expected, Lord Hades. I suggest you kill him yourself. Get it over with.”

Hades leaps to his feet. “Bring Thanatos to me. Immediately.” He growls, “The boy is mine.”

By the time he flings open the door, the woman is already gone. He marches to his prison. The grand building is halfway under the ground. Darker. A better punishment for fools like this damned mortal boy whose song had weakened Hades’s world. He moves down the stairs, his footsteps echoing as he descends. His anger grows. At Thanatos, for lying. Persephone, for abandoning him. And Orpheus, for his manipulation. How easily he’s gotten away with anything he’d asked. Hades had let him go. Hades had shown softness and now his kingdom slips away, whisked out of his grasp by a mortal boy, a traitor and his own wife.

He finds the door to the boy’s cell. Orpheus is unchained. He had freed the boy. Foolish. 

“Hades,” Orpheus glances up.

Hades grabs him by the neck and yanks him to his feet. He sees the desperate fear in the boy’s eyes. Orpheus makes a sharp noise of pain.

“Alive,” Hades whispers, low and dangerous.

“W-what?” Orpheus stutters.

“A king must do everything himself.”

Orpheus’s breaths shake. “Lord Hades…” he whispers.

“You should’ve ran when you had the chance, fool.” Hades draws a knife.

“No… no!” Orpheus pleads.

He yelps as Hades drives the blade through his gut. Hades drops him. The boy crumples to the floor, clutching his stomach. He coughs and blood falls from his lips.

“Hades…” he wimpers.

The king of underworld watches the poet struggle for breath for a moment. He remembers the song. He can’t bear it. He can’t stand to finish him off. He turns and slams the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades learns Thanatos has not killed Orpheus as promised. A king, he realizes, must do everything himself. But Hades (like the author) can’t stand to watch Orpheus suffer for more than two seconds, so he stabs the poor kid and skeddadles. Orpheus got stabbed. He realizes now that he is not dead and tries his best to hold on to his last shred of life. Hermes drags Apollo into the center of Hadestown. Dionysus and Persephone argue about the fact that Dionysus cannot follow simple rules. Eurydice does not know her boyfriend is dying (yet). Achilles and Patroclus are just trying to get the hell out of dodge before Hades finds out they’re escaping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood

As the heart of Hadestown draws closer, the air grows thicker with smog and the world brighter with the neon lights of the city.

“A city that outshines the sun,” Apollo mutters.

Hermes whirls around to face him. “Would you shut up? I don’t like this place anymore than you, but it’s a lot better without your whining. My son is dying and you’re complaining that it’s too bright down here?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m not used to this, alright? I’ve never been here before. No place I’ve ever seen casts such dark shadows…” he shudders.

“We should be planning anyway.” Apollo nods, glad for a distraction from his unease.

“We’ve got to find them first,” he says.

“I think I know where Orpheus is,” Hermes replies. “Hades will keep him locked up in the dark. Nothing could break my son’s will as well as a dim, lonely cell.”

“If you’d forgotten, I’m the kid’s father,” Apollo replies.

“Are you kidding me? We’re doing this? Right no-” a flash of silver catches Hermes’s eye from the top of a factory roof. “Get down!” he shouts, throwing Apollo to the ground. The arrow whizzes over their heads.

“What was tha-”

“We need to get to cover. Come on!” Hermes glances at the archer, notching a second arrow. He grabs Apollo’s hand and runs in erratic zig-zags towards the bowman.

The archer releases his arrow. It flies past them. He draws another. Hermes hears it whiz by his ear. Apollo yelps. He doesn’t look back. “Almost there!” They dive to the factory wall, out of range.

“Are you hit?” Hermes pants.

“That bastard, using archery against the God of-”

“Would you give me a straight answer?” Hermes shouts.

“It only grazed my cheek.” He wipes the golden blood away. “But that archer is dead.” Apollo stands.

“Would you think? For two seconds, Apollo?” There’s a flash of golden light and a bow appears in the god’s hands.

Hermes pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t die anyway.” Apollo winks and steps back into the line of fire. He pulls his bow taught and releases it with a twang. There’s a grunt from overhead.

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I’m a good shot!”

“Apollo, we’re being hunted down. Can you take a second to consider the severity of our situation?”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “We should keep moving. Thanks to you, we’re almost there.”

Hermes sighs. “You’re right. But keep your eyes open.”

“Of course.” Apollo pulls Hermes to his feet. “So you know where Orpheus is. What about Hyacinthus?”

“There’s only two possibilities. He’s working in the mines or the factories or Hades discovered he had a connection to you and locked him up.”

Apollo bites his lip. “It would take us an eternity to search every one of these damned mines. And if Hades finds him first…”

“So we check the prisons first. Here’s the deal. If I find Orpheus, you’ve gotta help me keep him alive. If he ends up back at the Styx, I’d never find him,” Hermes says. “If you find Hyacinthus, we’ll protect him, but I’ve still got to find my son.”

Apollo nods reluctantly.

“We’re close. That tower is where Hades spends most of his time. The prison is at its base.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orpheus’s ears ring. He’s slumped against the back wall of his cell, the knife still in his stomach. He’d managed to tilt his head to the side to prevent himself from choking on his own blood. Still, his breaths are uneven and when he coughs, the pain racks his entire body.

It’s been an hour, he thinks, maybe more. Hyacinthus in the neighboring cell had spoken up a few times, but his words had spun together in Orpheus’s mind, incomprehensible. When the cell door opens, he hardly moves. If Hades is here to finish him off, it won’t take much.

“Orpheus!” A familiar voice exclaims. He lifts his head a little. The man runs to his side. Orpheus coughs.

“Kiddo, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you home. Eurydice’s waiting.”

“H-Hermes.” Orpheus gasps.

“Lay down. You’re alright.” Hermes rests his head on a folded up jacket. “Apollo, help me out!” Orpheus doesn’t have the energy to keep his eyes open.

“Stay with me, Orpheus. Hang on. Please,” Hermes begs. He places both hands over Orpheus’s stomach and presses hard. Orpheus winces in pain.

“If we remove the knife,” Apollo says, “he’ll bleed faster. But it’ll be easier to put pressure on the wound, so it’s our only choice. Hold him down.”

He grips the handle of the blade and pulls, slowly and methodically. Orpheus yelps in pain. Hermes holds him to the ground.

“Keep his head to the side. I’ll get the bleeding to stop.”

Hermes lays Orpheus’s head in his lap. “You’re okay. Look at me, Orpheus.”

He does. “Hermes…” he whispers.

Hermes nods. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“H-Hades will find us… and…” Orpheus is cut off by his own coughing.

“Don’t waste your breath. Hades won’t lay a finger on you. You’re okay.”

“I… I can’t sing,” he stutters.

“It doesn’t matter, Orpheus. Focus on me.”

“Hades… Hades said I’m alive.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But…” he chokes again.

“We’ll talk once we’re out of here. Apollo, any progress?”

“Yeah,” he responds, “it’s a deep cut, but survivable. Don’t let him pass out.”

Hermes nods. Orpheus is trembling against him. “I’m so tired…” he whispers.

“I know, Orpheus. But you can’t go to sleep.”

“W-why?” Orpheus asks.

“Because we’re not quite home yet. When we are, you can sleep in a nice, warm bed.” Orpheus smiles. “Eurydice will be there when you wake up. It’ll be springtime. You remember spring? We picked flowers together when you were little. We stayed up late and watched the stars.”

He nods slightly. “I love you, Orpheus. And I’ll always be here. So will Eurydice. You’re never gonna feel like this again.”

“Got it! The bleeding’s stopped.” Apollo exclaims. “He’ll heal quickly in my presence, but he needs better medicine than I can give him down here. I’m going to look for Hyacinthus. If you need me, I won’t go far.”

Hermes nods.

“H-Hyacinthus?” Orpheus mutters. “I know the name… the next cell to the right..”

Apollo beams. On Orpheus’s instructions, he finds the right door. Inside, a young man leans with his ear against the wall. “Hyacinthus!” Apollo cries.

The prisoner turns. He blinks. “You…”

Apollo kneels at his side and pulls him into his arms. “We’re not doing that again, okay? You’re never leaving again.”

“Apollo?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s me!”

Hyacinthus sinks into his embrace. “I missed you,” he whispers.

Apollo lets him go. “Are you hurt?”

“Not badly. But the cell over…”

“I know, he’ll be fine.”

“I think I broke my nose,” Hyacinthus says.

Apollo lifts his chin and examines him. “Yes, you did. Your breathing’s rough, love.”

“It’s the smog down here.”

“No, I think you’ve broken your ribs. Take a deep breath.”

Hyacinthus winces.

“Broken. You’ll be okay. We’ll get you out of here, but you’ve gotta be careful, promise?”

“Hades will never let us go," he says.

“He’s not going to find out we’ve left.” He helps Hyacinthus to his feet. “Lean against me. Walk carefully. With Hermes’s help, the walk isn’t all that far.”

Hermes craddles Orpheus in his arms. “I… I can’t walk,” Orpheus sobs.

“I’m going to carry you. We’ll be on the train out of here in less than day, kiddo.”

“What if… what if he catches us?”

“He isn’t going to catch us. You ready?”

Orpheus nods. He’s light as a feather when Hermes scoops him into his arms. “You tell me if you feel like you’re gonna fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay.” Orpheus promises.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes and Apollo find Orpheus, struggling to survive. They hurry to help him and devise a plan to get Orpheus and Hyacinthus out of Hadestown before Hades realizes they’re gone. Everyone else has finally reached the Styx, except Thanatos, who faces Hades’s wrath for letting Orpheus live.

“If we move quickly,” Hermes explains, “it shouldn’t take us long to get out of here. With my blessing, the others should’ve crossed the Styx by now. I’ll carry Orpheus. Will you two be okay?”

“I can walk,” Hyacinthus says.

“Alright. Keep your guard up. Hades won’t just let us walk out of here. Orpheus, you’ve gotta stay with me, okay?”

“Mm hm,” Orpheus whispers, “I’ll try.”

Hermes lifts him off the ground. He gives a little cry of pain. “Sorry, Orpheus.”

Hermes carries Orpheus carefully up the stairs, out of the dark of the prison. He weighs almost nothing. He’s pale and thin and he looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. He blinks against the blinding lights of the city.

Hermes glances up at Hades’s looming tower. The windows are boarded and shattered glass lines the streets.

“Riots,” Hyacinthus says. “I’ve seen them before, but never like this.”

The wall around the city lays in ruins, red carnations painted on the fallen stones.

“Whose side are you on?” someone shouts from behind them.

“Not Hades’s,” Hermes replies.

“Allies. Get them out of here safely.”

Orpheus groans. “Look at me," Hermes tells him, "We’re almost out of here.” Orpheus coughs and wipes blood off his lips. “Where’s Hades?” Hermes asks the rioters.

“Locked away in his tower. He’s losing support, but those loyal to him have given us some trouble,” a man replies. Hermes adjusts the coat around Orpheus to hide his face. “The wounded take first priority. Get out of here, all of you!”

Hermes nods. “What’s the word of Orpheus?” he asks. 

“News spreads quickly," the shade answers, "They say Hades killed the boy himself. His lover made it out though, as did Lady Persephone.”

Hermes breaths a sigh of relief. There’s no target on a dead man’s back. “I hate to hear it.”

“We all do. There’s no forgiveness for Hades.” A distant blast shakes the ground under their feet. “The factories!” The rioter shouts. A cheer erupts from the crowd.

The scent of smoke is stronger that ever. Hermes ties a bandanna over Orpheus’s face to filter out the smog.

They reach the edge of the city’s center, where the barracks and factories turn to mine entrances. Once they’re out of earshot, Hermes checks on Orpheus. “You alright, son?”

“Y-yeah.” Orpheus mumbles.

“Good. I want you to tell me if anything changes, okay kiddo?”

Orpheus nods.

“Get him to put some pressure on his stomach,” Apollo says. “All this motion could easily reopen his wounds.”

Hermes places Orpheus’s hand over his bandages. “Press down.”

“Okay,” Orpheus whispers.

“You’re gonna get to see Eurydice soon.”

He smiles. “She’s alright?”

“Yes, she’s already across the Styx. So’s Persephone.”

“Good.”

They keep walking until the lights of Hadestown have faded behind them and the sound of the Styx’s rushing waters is audible in the distance. Hermes doesn’t go more than a minute without checking on Orpheus now. The boy’s answers are no more than slight movements in between shaky breaths.

“Hermes…” he mumbles.

“I’m here.”

“I’m gonna pass out.”

“Apollo, stop. I need help.” He sets Orpheus on the ground and holds a hand against his forehead. His shirt is soaked with blood and his leg is swollen and warm with infection.

“His fever’s gone up,” Apollo says. “Keep him awake. I need to get him to stop bleeding.”

“Orpheus, stay with me.” He blinks, as if desperately trying to keep his eyes open. “Can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters.

“Good.”

“Hermes… would you… would you sing to me?”

He nods. “Sure.” Hermes hums the notes to Orpheus’s song. The poet smiles.

“La… la la la… la la la….” Orpheus sings softly. A carnation blooms at his fingertips.

Hermes squeezes his hand. “Good. Keep singing. That’s good.”

Orpheus smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Orpheus. You’re doing great.”

“Hermes, he’s losing a lot of blood. Dammit, Orpheus! We’re so close! Hold on, kid. This would be easier if I had decent supplies! How far’s the train?”

“A mile, maybe more,” Hermes answers.

Orpheus coughs and makes a little noise of pain.

“Apollo!” Hyacinthus shouts. An arrow lands at their feet.

“Okay, a mile, right? Can you carry him Hermes?”

“Yes. Let’s go!”

Apollo ties a bandage around Orpheus’s torso and hands him off to Hermes. They run, as best they can, Orpheus folded in Hermes’s arms.

Another arrow flies overhead. “Where are they coming from?” Apollo shouts.

“Just keep moving!” Hermes replies. “Once we’re beyond the wall, we’re safe.”

“They… they say set me down…” Orpheus mutters.

“Who does, baby?” Hermes asks.

“Do what they say…” his eyelids flutter. “Or you won’t make it past the wall.”

“Argh!” Apollo shouts.

Hyacinthus catches him before he falls. “Keep going!” he cries.

“Leave me… Hermes, you have to leave me…” Orpheus says.

The wall spans the horizon before them. They arrive at the base, Apollo half-dragged by Hyacinthus. “My ankle,” he groans.

They find a gap in the wall, unfinished or collapsed it doesn’t matter. Hyacinthus pulls Apollo to the other side.

Hermes freezes. A prick of pain at his throat. Cold metal. “The dead don’t live,” three voices sing. “It’s too late.”

Orpheus looks up, his eyes wide.

“It’s alright,” Hermes tries to comfort him.

“Let… let me go,” Orpheus begs. “They’ll hurt you.”

“I’m not going to leave you here.” The blade tightens at his throat. He feels the heat of his divine blood running down his neck.

“Hermes…”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers.

“Get away from him!” Apollo shouts. An arrow flies past Hermes’s ear and hits its mark. The blade is pulled away. Hermes dives through the gap in the wall.

Apollo helps him to his feet. Persephone opens the train’s doors before them. “Hurry up!” She calls. They run to the train and leap through the doors.

Persephone slams them shut and the train begins to move. “Orpheus!” Eurydice runs to her lover’s side.

“I… I thought I lost you!” she whispers. “You stopped breathing. And… and…” her eyes fill with tears. “You just disappeared. I trusted Hermes would find you… but Orpheus, Orpheus, never, ever do that again.” She pulls him into her arms.

“Eurydice, give me a hand,” Apollo says. “Lift him into a seat.”

She nods and gently helps him up. He groans. She lays him across the nearest booth.

Hyacinthus drags Apollo upright. “Get me something for Orpheus’s pain. Something strong,” he orders. “Bandages too.”

Hermes pulls a chair to Orpheus’s side. “Sit,” he commands Apollo. “If you need anything else, just ask.”

Apollo nods his agreement and Hyacinthus lowers him into the chair. “Hyacinthus, lay down. Ice for your ribs, take something for the pain, and get some rest.”

“What about your leg?”

Apollo glances at it, the arrow shaft still protruding from his ankle. “I’ll deal with it in a minute.”

Eurydice pulls up a chair and sits beside her lover. “What can I do?” She asks.

“Keep him awake. He’s not out of the dark yet.”

Eurydice holds his hands. “Can you hear me, Orpheus?”

“Y-yes.” He whispers.

She brushes his tears off his cheeks. “I… I failed,” he says.

“You didn’t fail,” she tells him. “We’re going home. Just… listen to me.”

He looks up at her. “When we get home,” she says, “we’ll never have to deal with this again. I’ll never leave your side. We’ll be together, any way the wind blows.”

He smiles. “W-when I feel better… I’ll play my lyre for you. I’ll teach you to play.” He coughs.

“I’d like that, Orpheus,” she whispers.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Thanatos.” Hades growls.

“Lord Hades.” His captor throws him to the ground. The door slams, leaving him alone at Hades's mercy.

“We had an agreement.”

“That I would kill Orpheus because you couldn’t. Is that it, Hades? I’m a mercenary?” Thanatos snaps.

“We had an agreement that you and your brother would be allowed shelter in my realm.” Hades’s voice is soft but dangerous.

“Don’t punish Hypnos for my disobedience.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t get a say in what I choose to do.”

“No one dies without me, Hades,” Thanatos reminds him.

“Correct. But your brother is disposable.”

The door opens. Hypnos stands in its frame, golden blood dripping down his face. “Thanatos, we tried to get away, but…” his captor throws a hand over his mouth.

“Hades, don’t do this,” Thanatos pleads.

“That’s up to you. You let Orpheus escape. An enemy of Hadestown got away because of you. What argument do you present?”

“You did no better!” Thanatos snaps. “You had a chance to end his life. I wouldn’t have let him suffer if you’d cut his throat. But you let him go.”

Hades glares at him. “You have the audacity to insult me?”

Hypnos’s captor slams a baton against his head and he crumples to the floor.

“Hades. Hades, please!” Thanatos implores, “He’s done nothing wrong. I meant nothing. Let him go.”

“Leave him.” The door closes behind Hypnos’s guard. “You have no argument to defend yourself, Thanatos. We’ll determine your punishment once the boy is mine.”

He steps over Hypnos on his way out the door. Thanatos melts the chains off his wrists the second Hades is gone. He kneels at Hypnos’s side. “Wake up!”

Hypnos blinks. He raises a hand and touches the place where he’d been hit. He winces. “Where are we?” He asks, groggily.

“Hades’s office, I think.” Thanatos gets to his feet and throws open the window. “It’s a long way down.”

“You aren’t seriously considering jumping?”

“Or what?” Thanatos yells. “Watch Hades torture you? Hypnos, I’m not going to let him have that!”

The door handle turns. “Hypnos?”

He grins at the sound of his name. “Pasithea!”

“How the hell are we going to get out of here?” Thanatos asks. “There’ll be guards at every exit.”

“Not anymore.” Hypnos’s wife smiles. “The workers took care of that. We run and we’ve got a chance.”

Hypnos stifles a laugh. “You just about jumped out the window. We’re what? Fifteen stories off the ground?” Thanatos glares at him. “Okay, okay. It’s not funny. Let’s go.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenged by the Fates, Hermes scrambles onto the train out of Hadestown just in time. Eurydice and Apollo treat Orpheus’s wounds. Hyacinthus takes a nap. Persephone considers filing for divorce. Achilles and Patroclus silently brood over the fact that they’re sharing a train car with Apollo, who indirectly (okay, not that indirectly) murdered them during the Trojan War. Dionysus encourages his mother to please divorce his homicidal father already. Thanatos and Hypnos flee Hadestown on foot. Hades hides to avoid the riots (that he totally caused by trying to kill Orpheus, this is his fault.)

Hades slides the last lock into place and begins to barricade his bedroom doors. Being walled up in his living quarters, he thinks, does not look good for his image. Then again… what image does he have left to preserve?

He tries not to remember the pain and terror in Orpheus’s eyes. He was helpless. He hadn’t struggled, only given a desperate plea for his life.

Hades knew Orpheus had escaped. He’d watched Hermes from his tower, as he’d wrapped the wounded poet in his coat and carried the boy away from his confinement.

Hades had been given a choice when the boy arrived: appease the workers by letting Orpheus flee or kill him and appear strong. He’d taken the middle route. His shades had no respect for him any longer. Now, they pounded at his bedroom door, chanting Orpheus’s name.

Thanatos had been right, of course. He was weak. Foolish. Everything was far out of Hades’s reach now. Persephone would find her mother. As much alcohol as it might take, she was strong; she’d fight the bindings of the food of the dead. She would not return to him now. Orpheus would survive. Counter-intuitively, Hades finds himself hoping the boy had made it out safely. Half of him prays that Orpheus will recover and sing the world back into tune. He’ll never get to see it, Hades realizes. Orpheus’s springtime will be lost on the underworld. Nothing will change. Hadestown will never again see flowers bloom. Eventually, the boy’s song will be forgotten by the dead as the Lethe again takes its hold. Orpheus and Eurydice’s persistence may well earn them a seat among the gods. They’d never again return to his halls. All Hades has is his kingdom. And he must keep his grip. He will keep his grip. He always has.

The ground trembles. Another mine collapsed or production line blown sky high, he knows. Hades shuffles through his wife’s dresser, preparing to add it to the barricade. He finds a bottle of wine in the bottom drawer with a note attached. ‘For when I see you again, Seph!’ it reads, ‘Much love, Dionysus.’ Hades slams the bottleneck against the dresser. It shatters to bits. He pours the wine into his mouth and swallows. It reminds him of the few sweet springtimes he’d spent up above. He finishes the bottle.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Strong enough?” Hermes asks, handing Apollo a bottle of morphine.

“Should be. I’ll give him a dose. It’ll knock him out long enough for me to stabilize his condition. Eurydice, distract him for a second.”

“Hey, Orpheus,” she says. “When we get married-”

“We’re getting married?”

She smiles. “Oh, yes. Anyway, when we get married, you get to help me make the bouquet. And, I was thinking, we could write a nice little poem on the wedding invitations.”

“What would it say?” he asks.

“That’s your job!” she laughs.

“What would you write?”

“I dunno! ‘Roses are red, our love is true, we’re getting married to prove it to you!’”

He grins. “That’s terrible.”

“I told you! I’m not a poet.”

“Okay, so I’ll write the invitations,” he says.

“Let’s hold the ceremony outside. Maybe during cherry blossom?”

“Heads up, Eurydice, he’ll be out of it soon,” Apollo warns her.

Eurydice nods and continues, “Who should we invite?”

“Hermes and Persephone.”

“How about me?” Apollo asks.

“Oh yeah. And Hyacinthus too. Everyone we know can come! We’ll have wine for Seph and I’ll drink grape juice!”

Eurydice laughs. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“A lot,” he says. “A lot a lot.”

“More.”

“All the way to the stars?” he guesses.

“Past the stars and all the way back,” Eurydice corrects him.

His breathing steadies a little. “Can I sleep now?” he asks.

“Yes,” Apollo responds.

“When you wake up,” Eurydice says, “I’ll be right here. We’ll get married during cherry blossom once you’re feeling better and then you’ll teach me how to play the lyre.”

“Tch. Will you actually listen this time?” His words are slurred slightly by the medicine.

“I promise I will.”

“And you won’t try to throw my lyre into the fireplace?”

“I didn’t- okay. No, I won’t.”

“Good. Eurydice, I love you.”

“I love you too. Now get some sleep.”

He closes his eyes and his breathing steadies. Eurydice sinks back in her chair. “He’ll be alright?” she asks.

“Should be.” Apollo winces. “Give me a dose of that morphine or get this arrow out of my ankle, would you?”

“I’ll get Patroclus,” Hermes replies.

He returns a moment later with Achilles and Patroclus in tow. “Well,” Achilles remarks, “looks like karma caught up to you.”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “I saved the kid, now do me a favor and shut it.”

“Fine. Lay down.”

“What, on the floor? I don’t get a bed?”

“Yes, on the floor,” Patroclus snaps. “I’m not dragging you around.”

“Okay, okay.” Apollo puts his hands up in defeat and lowers himself to the ground.

“Listen, your lover boy’s asleep. So how do you want to do this?”

“Quietly,” Apollo says through gritted teeth.

“Alright.” Patroclus stuffs a scrap of cloth into Apollo’s mouth. “Bite this.”

He does. Patroclus snaps the arrow shaft. Apollo clenches his fists.

“Sorry,” Patroclus mutters, unapologetically.

“Mmmph,” Apollo attempts to reply through the cloth.

He yanks the arrow out. Apollo gives a muffled cry of pain. “Alright, there you go. A bandage and you should be fine.”

He spits out the rag. “You’re not even going to bandage it yourself?”

“No. Apollo, you guided a spear through my stomach and an arrow through Achilles’s foot. You let us bleed to death surrounded by the bodies of our fallen friends. Deal with it yourself or find a doctor whose life you didn’t end.”

Apollo stares up at the ceiling. “Take care of Hyacinthus, would you?”

“That I will,” Patroclus replies, honestly. “He’s doing well. He’ll want to see you when the pain meds wear off. So here.” He tosses Apollo a roll of bandages. “I’ll get you when he wakes.”

Hermes kneels at Apollo’s side. “You want a hand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, breathless. “That’d be nice.”

“Thank you. For helping with Orpheus. I know you would’ve liked to see Hyacinthus,” Hermes says.

Apollo half-smiles. “Orpheus is my son too. He’s a good kid, Hermes. You raised him well.”

“He admired you, Apollo. He cherished your visits.”

“I should’ve come more often,” he mutters.

“You were grieving,” Hermes reminds him. “Orpheus knows how it is. He never blamed you.”

“I’ll come by more often once this is all over. I’d like to promise him that.”

“He’d appreciate it, Apollo,” Hermes tells him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Persephone?” The door opens. She turns in her seat.

“Dionysus. Come sit.” He takes a seat beside her. “What now?” she asks softly.

“You stay with me, mother. Demeter and I will take care of you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m bound to that place.”

“You know Demeter would find a way around it. She’d bribe Zeus. Whatever it takes, mama.”

“Remind me this, son. What did I see in that man?” She asks in a low tone.

“He was kind. Reliable. He always treated me well as a boy. Gave me a normal life. As normal as the underworld gets, that is,” Dionysus reminisces.

“What changed? What broke inside of him for him to put a knife through Orpheus? Send shades to hunt us? I cannot say that he is not the man I know, though. I’ve seen this side of him for years.”

“I…” he pauses. “I don’t know.”

“I feared for you, Dionysus. I sent you away to keep you out of his grasp. I stayed longer winters to distract him. It wears on me, even now.”

“Seph, I can handle myself.”

“Not against Hades. I will not have you put yourself on the line for me, son,” she tells him, sharply.

“I don’t want you going back there!” he pleads.

She shakes her head. “Hades will contact his brother. Zeus has no pity for a woman’s whining. Hades will keep his kingdom, and he will keep his wife.”

“Mother-”

She cuts him off. “Be realistic. We must work out a reasonable agreement. We need to protect Orpheus, first and foremost. If he is not protected by my contract, then I will not take it. I will plead for shorter months stuck down there, but I would hope for very little. You will swear to me that you will follow the rules laid out for us, regardless of how harsh they may be.”

“I will not,” he says.

“This isn’t up for debate. Hades owns me. He owns everything that touches his forsaken realm. I am his queen; I am his prisoner.”

“I’m not letting him have you!”

“I’m not giving you a choice, Dionysus. I bound myself to him. I cannot change the past. All we can do is try, my son.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades watches his kingdom slip out of his fingertips. He desperately attempts to find some way to keep his grip on what should be his. Persephone determines that it may come down to her to protect Orpheus (and the rest of the world) from Hades, no matter what that means for her. Hermes and Eurydice devise a plan to protect their favorite poet. Patroclus wishes he’d gotten a chance taken his chance to kick Apollo for guiding Hector to kill him. (‘My foot was this close to his face, Achilles!’) Dionysus (kinda) listens to his mother. Hyacinthus and Orpheus sleep through the train ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for inevitable errors! Anyway, I have school again, but I’m seriously tired of pushing my homework boulder up the hill, only to watch it crash down again when I get new assignments the next week, so I’ll take some solace in staying up far too late to write this.

“Hermes?” Eurydice whispers.

“Hm?” He looks up from his rest.

“What did they do to him?” she asks quietly.

“You really want to know that?”

She considers for a moment. “Yes. He’ll need me.”

“He stopped breathing when you crossed the Styx, didn’t he?” Hermes asks, avoiding her request.

Eurydice turns away from his gaze. “His body turned to ash. But... it wasn’t really him. I walked all that way. And it was just a diversion.”

“Not a diversion,” he tells her. “Protection. An extra shot at making it out of here. The God of Death’s blessing. Thanatos couldn’t bear to give him to Hades. Orpheus was never really a shade. Only in part. When he reaches the surface, it won’t be so hard on him.”

“I was a shade. What will happen to me?” she asks, alarmed.

“It’ll be harder to get used to the surface,” he says. “You’ve noticed it already, I bet. It’s strange, isn’t it, to need to sleep so much?”

She shrugs. “A little. There’s gotta be more to it than a little fatigue.”

“Not physically. It’s a different kind of protection bestowed upon him. Because he wasn’t a shade, Orpheus couldn’t have signed Hades’s contracts. He’s under his own jurisdiction. Hades won’t be able to argue that he belongs to the underworld.”

“Will that stop Hades?” she wonders aloud.

“No, but it will weaken his argument. And I assure you, there will be an argument. It’s you I’m worried about, Eurydice,” he says.

“Orpheus, by extension, then. If I know a thing about that poet of mine, he’d do it all again if Hades takes me.”

“Yes, he would,” Hermes sighs. “Which is why we need to prevent the possibility.”

“How would we go about that? Us against… Hades? Maybe Zeus?”

“I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

She exhales. “What is it?”

“Orpheus.”

“No,” she says, sharply. “He’s been through enough.”

“I agree. But his song could sway opinions.”

“Not enough,” she responds.

“No, just enough. He's already won,” Hermes says.

“What are you saying? We barely escaped!”

“Hades let us go. When I found him…” Hermes glances at Orpheus, sound asleep. “His cell was unlocked. He wasn’t chained up. Hades wanted us to escape. We met almost no confrontation leaving the city.”

“You really think…”

He nods. “I’m sure of it. If Orpheus can convince Hades to let him go once, he’ll do it again.”

“And how would we ask him to do that? After all of this, he’ll be back to work on his song all over again?”

“We tell him the truth.”

“Tell me the truth, Hermes. What the hell did they do to him?” she asks again. “If this really is our only choice, I at least want to know how to support him.”

“The cell was pitch-dark,” he tells her. “The ground… Eurydice, are you-”

“Please. I want to know what he went though. I want to understand.”

He sighs and continues. “The ground was covered in pictures. Drawn in his own blood or carved into the stone. Your name beside his. The notes to his song, scratched out like he wanted to forget it.”

Eurydice watches her lover, his chest slowly rising and falling. He looks peaceful. Still, his pain is fresh. It's only the medicine keeping him relaxed.

“I don’t think he slept much. He could hear the other prisoners through the walls, I’m sure.” Eurydice lays the palm of her hand against his forehead. He smiles slightly in his sleep. “I doubt they gave him food or drink. He weighed almost nothing when I carried him out of there. They’d torn off his bandages and left him to bleed. He’d given up. I found him leaned up against a wall, hardly strong enough to lift his head. He thought it was over.”

“I’m sorry, love,” she whispers. She feels his warm breath against her cheeks. “We’re never letting that happen again.”

“No matter what it takes,” Hermes promises, “Hades will never lay a finger on him again. I swear.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hades lays awake, prevented from rest by the shouts of his workers. The barricade holds, but he can smell fire from outside his doors. How long before he’s forced to flee? Where would he run? Demeter would never let him touch the surface world. Hermes had taken the train. That leaves him with one option. He almost wishes he hadn’t thought of the possibility. Olympus.

Zeus would find it hilarious. The king of the underworld, forced into exile by his own workers. He’d be the laughing stock of the family. Still, it was better than whatever Hadestown had in store for him and it was preferable to Demeter’s wrath. With a little luck, Zeus might even help him keep him kingdom. If fortune wasn’t on his side, bribes would suffice.

A sudden shatter of glass pulls Hades from his planning. The barricade goes up in flames. His door rattles open. Hades rushes to the window. It’s only a few floors down to the ground. He kicks out the glass and jumps. His divine legs catch him better than a mortal’s could. He lands with a roll.

“Keep running, don’t look back,” three voices sing, audible over the chaos.

And so he runs.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang has made it home! It’s warmer now! Orpheus did more than he thought with his song. Hades flees to Olympus and plans to sue Orpheus for property damage. Hermes decides their best shot at beating Hades is a combination of pretty music and accusing the prosecution of stabbing the defendant. Thanatos wonders where the heck he’s supposed to take his brother.

Eurydice takes a damp washcloth and drapes it over Orpheus’s forehead. He looks content in his rest somehow, even with an oxygen mask over his face and an IV in his arm. Not healthy, but not nearly as bad as he’d looked on the train.

The scent of flowers pleasantly fills the room. Persephone had brought them a bouquet as a gift. Real spring flowers. Eurydice plucks one out of its vase and twirls it between her fingertips. It had been a decade, maybe more, since she’d seen flowers like these. A true springtime. It makes all the winters worth it, she decides.

Orpheus coughs weakly. She drops the flower back into its vase. “Eurydice?” He croaks.

She takes his hand. “I’m right here.”

“Where am I?”

“We’re home.” She grins.

“Really?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yes! We made it, love!”

He gives a slight nod.

“How are you feeling, Orpheus?” Eurydice inquires.

“Better. My leg hurts. And my stomach.”

“Do you want me to get Apollo?”

“No. Not yet. I just want to look at you.”

She strokes his palm. “Okay. Tell me if you need anything, promise?”

“I will,” he agrees.

He sits in silence for a moment, looking up at her.

“Eurydice?” he asks, quietly.

“What do you need?”

He swallows. “Am… am I going to die?”

“No! No, no,” she tells him, hurriedly. “Oh, Orpheus, I’m sorry. No, you’re going to be okay.”

He blinks back tears. “I’m scared of going back. I… I thought…” his voice breaks and he sobs.

She sits beside him and holds him in her arms, swaying slightly back and forth, as if rocking him to sleep. “Baby, you’re not going back there. I’ve got you.” He coughs and she gently pats his back.

“It hurts to cough,” he moans.

“You breathed in a lot of smoke. That’s why you’re coughing. It won’t last. It won’t last.”

Hermes enters the room with an armload of firewood. He sets it down and hurries to his son’s bedside. “How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asks.

Orpheus looks up, teary-eyed. “Dad.”

Hermes wipes the tears off his cheeks. “You did it,” he says.

Orpheus tilts his head. “What?”

“It’s spring, Orpheus! Your song worked!”

He shakes his head. “There’s no way. I didn’t change anything.”

Eurydice hands him a flower from the vase. “You brought back the springtime, lover.”

His expression lightens. He wipes the tears off his cheeks. “Will I… get to see it? Hermes, does spring last a long time? I don’t think I can walk but I want to see how it looks! Eurydice, what’s it like? Does it feel different? Smell different?” he rambles.

Hermes smiles. “Yes, you’ll get to see it. I can open the windows if you’d like.”

“Yes! Yes, please! I’d like that," he brightens at the proposition. 

Hermes pulls the blinds open and lifts the window pane. “You breathing okay, kiddo?” Orpheus nods. “Apollo gave me the go-ahead to take off your mask as long as you feel like you’re getting enough air. Tell me if anything changes.”

Orpheus takes a deep breath. “It smells like… flowers,” he observes. “And grass. Like a meadow after a rainstorm.”

“You did this,” Eurydice reminds him. “You did… all of this.”

He smiles. “I did it with you.”

“No,” she says. “I left you behind when you needed me, Orpheus.”

Hermes stands, foreseeing the oncoming argument. “No one blames you, Eurydice, but yourself. Talk it out. Call for me if you need anything.”

Eurydice shakes her head. “He’s wrong,” she says, exasperated. “I was so caught up in myself and my own struggles, I didn’t think of you. I signed the contract. Not Hades. When—if— he comes back for me, promise me you won’t follow. Promise me, lover, that you’ll live here on the surface, safe.”

“Anywhere you go, I’m going.” He looks away. “Eurydice… he wants you that badly?”

“I don’t know what he wants, but-”

“I want you more. I’m not going to let him have you.”

“Orpheus…” He’s determined, she knows, and there’s nothing that will change his mind.

“If my song can do this,” he gestures to the window, “I will convince him.”

“Lover, you need rest. You need to heal.”

“Not until you’re safe, Eurydice.” He flinches as he sits up. “I need to protect you. I failed once. I will not fail again. Let me do this for you.”

“Orpheus, what if it doesn’t work? You’ll put yourself through hell for nothing!”

“If I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself!” He shouts, ending with a cough.

“Why would you do this for the girl who abandoned you?” she asks, solemnly.

“Because I love you!” He grabs her hands. “I love you, Eurydice.”

“I love you too, Orpheus. I don’t want you risking your safety for me.”

“I’ll be careful. Still, I should get to work, love. I’ll need papers! Something to write with and my lyre. And you. Don’t go, please.”

She hugs him. “I’ll never leave again.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thanatos? Where are we going?” Hypnos asks, his head still aching from where he’d been hit.

“I’d like to ask the same,” Pasithea offers, her husband’s arm draped over her shoulder for support.

Thanatos keeps his eyes on the road ahead. It’s a long walk out of Hadestown.

“Brother, please,” Hypnos repeats.

He pauses. “Do you promise you won’t turn back?”

“Thanatos, I wouldn’t get far like this.”

“Swear it,” he insists.

“Okay, okay. Always stubborn. I swear I won’t turn back.”

“Olympus,” Thanatos mutters under his breath.

“What? Than, I was just hit in the head. Forgive me if my hearing’s a little-”

“I said Olympus. Now let’s go.”

Hypnos grins. “No way.”

“I’m never hearing the end of this?” Thanatos guesses.

“I never thought I’d see the day! My brother, Death himself, wants to hang out on Olympus! What are you expecting? A warm welcome?”

“Medicine,” Thanatos sighs, “you’ll need it.”

“You do realize that Zeus will do anything in his power to get rid of me? I put him to sleep at… inconvenient times. Twice.”

“And that’s why I’m joining you. The Olympians fear me, at least to some degree. I’d rather contend with Zeus than Hades these days.”

“I must admit, I’m looking forward to this. We’ll call it a family vacation!” Hypnos says.

“More like a co-op torture session,” Thanatos mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps. No you are not allowed to question why everyone uses bows and arrows in a place where modern medicine (and definitely firearms) are available. Apollo is ahead of his time as a doctor? No one wants to learn a new skill? The author doesn’t want to be realistic? You choose.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades heads for Olympus to bribe- no- convince his brother, Zeus, to help him keep a hold on his kingdom. Thanatos heads for Olympus to get medical treatment for Hypnos’s concussion. Neither knows that the other is also going to be there. Orpheus sings and sings and sings. He tries to hide how disappointed he is by how awful he sounds. Smoke inhalation in Hadestown didn’t do him good. Eurydice and Hermes make sure he’s adequately drugged up enough not to notice the stab wound through his stomach. Hyacinthus is super excited to see his namesake flowers for the first time thanks to Orpheus’s springtime. Apollo resists going on any long spring walks after being shot through the ankle. Persephone cannot believe it’s really spring. Not too hot, not too cold, it’s a miracle! Dionysus enjoys getting drunk, but in the spring this time. Achilles and Patroclus wonder whether or not they’re going to be allowed to stay out of Hadestown.

A week has passed since they’d arrived back home. Eurydice, for all the novelty the springtime has brought, hasn’t changed her routine since the day they’d arrived. Sitting beside her lover seems to her to be enough. The others spend most of their time enjoying the pleasantries of the world in bloom, but Eurydice had hardly leaves Orpheus’s bedside. Through the days, he sings and scribbles down notes.

The nights are harder. By sunset, she’s found, his pain medicine begins to wear off and Apollo gives him something stronger to sleep. Tonight, they’re trying to wean him off of the powerful medicine. His sleep has been restless already. Eurydice hasn’t closed her eyes.

She’s almost drifting off to sleep when Orpheus wakes with a start. “Orpheus? You okay?”

His eyes well with tears. He clutches his chest and cries out, in fear or pain, Eurydice can’t tell. She considers running for Apollo, but she can’t bear to leave his side. “Orpheus, look at me.”

He won’t meet her eyes. Tears roll down his cheeks and he shakes with sobs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

His lips move, but no sound comes out, save for his sobbing hiccups. She takes his hands. “Please look at me,” she pleads gently.

He tucks his head into his arms. “No… please…” he moans.

“Orpheus, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Much longer and she’ll have to leave him to wake Apollo.

She pulls him into her arms and lets him cry. “I… I wanna go home,” he whispers.

Her brow furrows. “You are home, lover.”

He shakes his head against her chest. “No… no.”

“This is home. You’re okay,” she reminds him.

He squeezes her hands, desperately. “No. No. No,” he repeats, over and over again. His tears soak Eurydice’s shirt.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” she probes. He trembles against her and begins to cry harder. Eurydice lays him back in bed. He holds her wrists. “I’ll be right back. I won’t even leave the room,” she promises. He sinks against the pillows and releases her grasp.

Eurydice finds a box of matches and strikes one. She holds it against her candle lantern. A little light might help her examine him. Orpheus lifts his head when the light touches his face. His lips part. He glances around, shivering with shock. “Orpheus?”

His breaths are quick and heavy. “E-Eurydice… I’m… I’m home,” he stutters.

She sits at his side. “Yes. You’re home and I’m right here.”

“It… it was so dark,” he mumbles.

It dawns on her then. “It was dark! Did you think you were back… there?”

“I don’t know… it was just so dark…”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know.”

“I-it’s okay.” His voice breaks and he leans into her again.

“Is it better with the lantern?” He nods. “Okay. We’ll sleep with lights, Orpheus.”

He lays in her arms a moment, until she feels damp heat against her torso. She lays him back in bed at the sight of his blood.

His eyes widen. “Eurydice!” he begs.

She lifts his shirt to find his bandages soaked through. “It’s okay, love. You just put too much strain on it.” She presses his hand over the wound. “Keep pressure on it. Try not to move. I’m gonna go get bandages.”

“Okay,” he agrees. Eurydice finds a few rolls of bandages and returns to his side. She cuts away the blood-soaked wrappings. “Eurydice,” he whimpers.

“Hang on, you’re okay.”

He squeezes her hand. “It hurts.”

“I know.” She unscrews the cap of a pill bottle and tips a flask of water against his lips. “Swallow.” He does. “Good. It’s okay, Orpheus. You’re fine.” She holds a wad of gauze against his stomach and pulls the blankets up around his shoulders.

He lays in silence until the bleeding stops. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love. I’m sorry I didn’t light a candle sooner. We’ll keep the lights on, okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermes stokes the fire. Another letter. And another. And another. The words light up as if they don’t want to be burnt. He tosses a handful of twigs over the papers. They all say the same thing: ‘Hermes, you’ve been summoned to Olympus. King Zeus asks for your immediate presence.’

He opens another, glances over the words and tosses it into the flames. Only another stack or two to go. He considers just tossing them all to burn without opening them. Still, he rips out another, afraid of missing details. ‘Lord Hermes,’ it reads. He recognizes the handwriting but cannot place his finger on whose it is. Not the usual messages, written by cup-bearer Ganymede when Hermes himself is unavailable. The letter continues: ‘I understand your predicament and I believe I must inform you of our own on Olympus. Your summons are not those of common matters, as I’m sure you have determined. I fear, however, that you were not told of the severity of your situation. Hades arrived at the gates of Olympus yesterday.’

Hermes freezes. Hades. On Olympus. He’s calling Zeus to his aid. ‘My father, Zeus, wishes to keep you in the dark so he will have you in his grasp the moment you arrive. Though I am not permitted to say so, you must not abide by your summons alone. You will be Zeus’s to do with as he pleases. Hades’s case is against Orpheus first, but his arguments are unconvincing. He provides no contracts or legally-binding terms the boy was meant to follow. It is his case against you that worries your friends here on Olympus. You broke every major agreement in your terms in helping mortals flee the underworld and hiding a shade’s contract, as Eurydice’s pact is no where to be found.’

‘Regardless, I side with you, not the King of the Dead. You may have been foolish to break your terms, but Lord Hades attempted to end a life out of sheer selfish desire, after claiming Orpheus could leave unharmed. Your case is stronger. I await your arrival. Bring with you Apollo, Persephone and Dionysus as well as the poet, Orpheus, and his lover. The others may accompany you if you wish. Remember, you have allies on Olympus, myself included. Regards, Athena, Goddess of Wisdom & War.’

Hermes sinks back against his chair. He curses under his breath. Zeus has sided with Hades. He knows others will follow. Still, he has support. Demeter, certainly, would do anything to disrupt Hades’s goals. Hera will likely side against her husband out of spite. Artemis will join Apollo, if she bothers to show up at all. Aphrodite might defend Orpheus for the purity of his love of Eurydice. Ares, however, for all of his arguments with his father, seems predicated to choose the powerful side. Zeus, the King of the Gods has prospects. Regardless, he hopes Orpheus will harbor more support than prosecution. With Athena on their side, they have a chance.

Another envelope catches his eye. It is addressed to his name, in perfectly formed capital letters. He wishes he could throw it into the fire. Hades’s handwriting. He tears it open.

‘Hermes, I regretfully inform you that you have broken terms 1.1-1.3 of your contract, which state: The return of mortal souls to the overworld by your hand is prohibited. The aid in the return of mortal souls to the overworld is prohibited. Aid is defined by giving directions, supplies, or tools to any individual, mortal or divine. You have also broken terms 2.4-2.7, which state: Copies of important shade contracts will be delivered to Olympus in a timely matter, without interference. Other terms you have broken include: 5.5, which states: Inciting the overthrowing of the hierarchy of the underworld is prohibited. 6.1, which states: All contact with traitors to the underworld is prohibited. 7.3, which states: Removal of goods from the underworld without permission is prohibited.’ Hermes rolls his eyes. Orpheus had been wearing Hadestown-issued clothing.

‘7.4, which states: Delivering goods to the underworld without permission is prohibited.’ They’d brought food and drink for Orpheus and Hyacinthus. ‘2.8-2.9, which state: Release of underworld prisoners by your hand is prohibited. Aid in the release of underworld prisoners is prohibited. 3.1, which states: The return of shades to the Styx by any purposeful means is prohibited.’ Apollo’s killing shot on their aggressor. The letter continues on: ‘3.8, which states: Aggression against any individual under Lord Hades’s power is prohibited.’ More charges are listed. It seems Hades wants to use everything he has to argue Hermes's guilt.

‘Due to the aforementioned breaches of contract, your employment under Lord Hades has been permanently terminated. Lord Zeus has been granted jurisdiction to decide your punishment.’ Hermes sighs. The last man to receive Zeus’s wrath thanks to Hades was Asclepius. The poor son of Apollo had been repeatedly struck by lightning until his heart stopped. He shudders at the thought. Even if he could take it, Orpheus most certainly couldn’t.

The letter finishes with the charges against Hermes’s son: Inciting revolution against Hades, freeing shades from the underworld, inciting riots causing property damage, manipulation against the king, and breaking the terms of a verbal agreement. Hermes almost laughs at how pathetic the accusations are. Entering Hadestown is no legal contract. Orpheus hadn’t had rules to break. His agreement was to leave without singing, which he hadn’t broken, according to Eurydice. If he’d sang in his cell, the terms had been nullified by his assumed death. Hades has nothing.

Nothing on Orpheus, that is. Hermes knows his own punishment will be brought against Orpheus, rather than himself. If Hades wants to hurt him, he knows Orpheus’s suffering is the way to do so, especially now. They have to win, for Orpheus’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps. My phone has decided to autocorrect ‘Orpheus’ to ‘AirPods’ now, rather than ‘Orange.’ This is not important, but I don’t think my phone likes his name very much.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Olympus, tensions are high. The pantheon is forced to choose sides: an innocent poet or the man who stabbed him. Hermes only grows increasingly anxious about his approaching trial. If he’s not ready to sing, he’s afraid Orpheus will take the fall.

Thanatos stands, exhausted at the gates of Olympus. The walk out of Hadestown had been longer than he’d expected. Hypnos hadn’t woken after the third night. He’d been in and out of consciousness since.

Thanatos calls out to the gods, pleading for aid. Their lack of ambrosia had taken its toll on himself and his brother. Despite his near-constant unconsciousness, Hypnos looks as if he hasn’t slept for weeks. The blinding lights of Olympus do him no favors. The bags under his eyes look even more pronounced here.

Pasithea steps up to the doors and slams her fists against them. “Please!” she cries. Still, they’re met with no reply. She sinks to the ground and buries her head in her hands. Thanatos forces himself not to collapse under his and his brother’s weight. 

It feels like an eternity before a man arrives at the door: golden hair, blue eyes. He looks just like his father. “Asclepius.” Thanatos bows his head to his old enemy. A doctor so incredible he’d resurrected the dead. Zeus’s punishment hadn’t held him down long. Now he’d become a god himself.

“It took me a moment to convince Zeus to let me take my leave. Come in. Speak to no one. Keep your heads down,” he directs. He helps Pasithea to her feet. “You must be out of your mind to come here, Thanatos. If Hades learns of your presence-”

“Hades is here?” Thanatos inquires, forcing back his panic.

“Yes,” Asclepius answers. “He arrived, worse off than you, a few days ago. It seems his years of pushing around his workers finally caught up to him.”

He opens the gates and guides them through the city’s oddly silent streets. Quieter than Hadestown, Thanatos observes. Down below, a pickaxe always swings. A foreman’s shouts are always audible. Here, there is nothing but stillness. “I mean you no offense, my lord, but I believe my storage cellar may be the best place for you to take shelter,” Asclepius says.

“None taken. We’ll take what we can get.”

“If I might ask, what happened to your brother? I will treat him, as he clearly has taken a hit to the head. How long has he been unconscious?” Asclepius asks.

“Hades’s doing,” Thanatos replies, curtly. “He’s been in and out of consciousness for six days.”

Asclepius opens the door to his residence and ushers them inside. “I suspected as much. I assume you fled without carrying ambrosia with you?”

Thanatos nods. “We had no time.”

“I don’t blame you.” Asclepius takes a few pillows from his bed and tears off the sheets. He guides them down a short staircase into a dimly lit cellar. It smells of herbs. The sweet scent of nectar reminds Thanatos of his hunger. Asclepius tosses the pillows against a shelf and rests Hypnos against them.

“Make yourselves comfortable. You may have as much ambrosia as you wish. I will not tell the counsel you’ve arrived. If they come looking for you, hold the door shut and stay quiet. I shouldn’t be long,” Asclepius tells them. He turns to leave.

“Asclepius, I’m sorry for the circumstances of our last meetings,” Thanatos apologizes.

He smiles. “I’m lucky I got off so light. You helped the boy escape, didn’t you? That is why you are so afraid.”

“I’m the God of Death. I have nothing to fear,” Thanatos attempts to convince himself.

“Angering Hades gives anyone something to fear, mortal or divine. But I believe Hermes and Orpheus are in far danger than yourself. Regardless, take care. I won’t be long.” He shuts the door behind him.

Thanatos immediately turns search the shelves for nectar. He finds a bottle, flicks out the cork and drinks half of it. The rest, he hands to Pasithea.

Hypnos rubs his eyes. “Ugh…” he groans. “Where are we?”

His wife briefs him of their journey. “So… we’re locked in Asclepius’s basement? On Olympus?” He smiles slightly. “These pillows are almost as good as mine. Comfy. I could almost forget that the furies cracked my skull open.”

“Do you ever stop?” Thanatos mutters.

“Like I said! Vacation, Than. Sure, it’s not a beach, but to be fair, there’s no difference. I’d sleep either way. Give me some of that nectar.” He tips the bottle and swallows. “Mm. Not bad. The underworld ages it better.”

“Hades is here,” Thanatos blurts. “So would you shut up and let me think?”

“He is? Didn’t Hermes steal the train… oh my gods! He walked? Ha! I wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Would you listen?” he snaps. “Hades wants us punished. You’ve seen what happens to mortal traitors. We can’t let him find us, Hypnos.”

“And that’s why I’m not going anywhere. Not that I could. Pretty sure I can’t walk. Or at least I wouldn’t want to deal with the headache,” he replies. “Now. What’s the plan, Thanatos?”

“I… don’t know.”

“So we are in trouble then! I… have an idea, but I’m not sure we should rely on it.”

Thanatos exhales. “I’ll hear you out. Maybe a bad plan’s better than no plan.”

“Hades will summon Orpheus and Hermes to trial, right? If that song was as good as it sounded and if I didn’t hallucinate the change in weather, I’d say other gods will side with Orpheus simply because his song has power. Maybe we ought to take their side. Show ourselves and proclaim our support?” Hypnos says.

“Hades will call it a second betrayal.”

“What do we have to lose, Thanatos?”

He sighs. “If they win the trial, it’ll give us a chance. Even that’s better than nothing. I agree.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hermes.” He jumps at the sound, startled awake.

“Apollo.” He crumples the letters and stuffs them into his pockets.

“You’re anxious. Panicked. What are you afraid of?”

Hermes rolls his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you to stop doing that? I know how I feel without you telling me.”

“Sorry, but you’ve hardly spoken to anyone for days. You’re hiding something. You secret would be safe with me.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t believe that for a second,” Hermes retorts. “You’ll blab to your boyfriend the second you walk out the door.”

Apollo leans slightly more of his weight against the crutch he’s using to walk. “I won’t,” he says, softly. “Hyacinthus is a good man, but this is clearly more than he needs to worry about.”

His tone is honest. Still, Hermes doesn’t back down. “It’s more than you need to worry about. Go write a poem or something, o god of music,” He replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Hermes, look. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but… I do care about you. I guided you through your childhood; I taught you how to function on Olympus. I tried to protect you. From what I understand, you broke your contract with Hades and you’re afraid of what he’ll do to you. Why won’t you speak to us? We know, Hermes,” Apollo tells him.

“No, you don’t know!” he snaps. “I’m not afraid of what he’ll do to me. You called me Prometheus yourself. I entered Hadestown anyway. I’ll suffer, but I can manage. But it’s not me they want. I know Orpheus will take Hades’s punishment in my place. He’s young. Afraid. He won’t survive,” Hermes draws in a shaky breath. “We have no defense.” He hands Apollo the letters. “Read.”

His eyes pass over the words on the pages. “Hermes, we’ve been summoned immediately.”

“I know. We can’t go. Not yet. Orpheus needs to rest. And…” he exhales. “I haven’t told him.”

“He deserves to know. Why do you keep this from him?”

“Because he needs to recover. If he knows, all he’ll do is sing and sing. He’ll forget all else if he thinks he can protect me and Eurydice. That boy, my son, he feels with the whole of his being. He loves with such kindness, such passion, that his love alone brought flowers to the realm of death. He’d give his life if it meant protecting us and I can’t let him do that.” His voice rises. “If Zeus wants my blood, fine! Let him torture me. He won’t touch Orpheus.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll win the trial. You have nothing to worry about! We’ve got Athena on our side and even I’ve argued a few cases. With Orpheus’s song, we’ll be undefeatable.” His words are encouraging.

“I have to tell him,” Hermes mutters. 

“He needs urgency. I hate this as much as you do, but we do what we must.”

Someone pounds on the door. Hermes bristles at the sound. “Who’s there?” He calls.

“Hermes…” Three voices in harmony.

He strides across the room. “Don’t open the damn door!” Apollo shouts.

“Orpheus is next on their list,” he replies. He turns the handle. “What do you want?”

“You cannot defeat fate. You will see. What is coming.”

Hermes slums against the door frame and sinks to the ground. Orpheus is singing. His voice falters. He cries out, “No! No!”. Eurydice screams. The metallic stench of blood hits him. Hermes tries to stand. His wrists are bound in chains. It’s dark. He can’t tell if his eyes are open. 

He gasps and the room returns. Apollo kneels at his side. “Orpheus,” he chokes out. 

“He’s fine. Hermes, what did you see?”

He takes a deep breath. “Orpheus screamed. I couldn’t reach him. Apollo, this is fate. It’s unchangeable.”

“Don’t talk like that. I know how prophecies work. They’re misleading by nature.”

“There wasn’t nuance. We’re going to fail. And when we do-”

“No. Hermes, we’re going to win.” He puts his hands on Hermes’s shoulders. “I swear we’re going to win.”

“We have to tell Orpheus.”

“I can do it if-” 

Hermes cuts him off. “No. He’s my son. I need to tell him myself.”

Apollo doesn’t argue. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orpheus strums his lyre. His voice sounds a little better today, he notices. Still, he struggles to reach high notes. His voice breaks or he coughs in between lines. He’s begun to realize that it isn’t going back to the way it was. Eurydice doesn’t mention it. He hates to think about the possibility, but he knows he’ll have to eventually. 

He reads over his sheet music. He starts another paper. He tries humming his melody, replacing his higher notes with low ones. Eurydice perks up at the new song. “That was beautiful.”

He cracks a smile. “You think?”

“Sing it again.” 

He repeats it, louder this time. 

“Orpheus!” A carnation blooms in his hands. “My gods, that’s incredible.”

Again, he sings, this time plucking the lyre to the tune of his old song. The harmony hums in the air. Flowers spring up in his hair. 

“How’d you do that?” She’s grinning. 

“I don’t know! I thought maybe it’d be easier on my voice.”

“Is it?”

He nods. “I think so. I don’t feel like hacking my lungs out at least.”

“I love you, Orpheus. So, so much.”

He blushes. “I know.”

“I know you know. I just needed to tell you again.” She marches to his bedside and kisses him before he gets in another word. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

He turns as red as the carnations dotting his hair. “I- mmmph!” She kisses him again. 

“Shush.” She places a finger on his lips. “Just kiss me.”

“O-okay!” He awkwardly presses his lips against hers. She wraps her arms around him. 

“Gods, I love you,” she whispers in his ear.

He remains in her embrace for a while until she pulls away. “You wanna sing that song again, lover?”

He’s smiling like an idiot. “Yes.”

“Well, sing it then.” 

“La, la la la… ha ha!” He laughs. It sounds ridiculous through his ear-to-ear grin. 

There’s a knock at the door. “I’ll get it!” Orpheus proclaims habitually. “Oh, wait.” Eurydice stands to open it. “No, I said I’ve got it! Come in!” Orpheus calls. “See?” he says, winking. She laughs. 

The door opens. Hermes stands in its frame, looking exhausted. “We need to talk. Both of you.”

Orpheus frowns. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. No… I don’t know, kid.” He considers just handing Orpheus the letters. Instead, he continues speaking. “I’ve been receiving summons to Olympus since we arrived. I didn’t want to worry you, but I can’t keep you in the dark any longer. Hades has convinced Zeus to put us on trial before the counsel. The charges against you are baseless. But… I did break my contract and I’ll face the consequences.”

“No, Hermes, we’ll win! You said yourself I could convince Hades of anything.”

“Orpheus, broken contracts don’t go unpunished. I just don’t want you to feel the consequences of my actions.”

“Hermes, I don’t want them to hurt you!” Orpheus begs.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to worry over my fate, kiddo. I’ll do what I can. I just didn’t want to leave you in the dark about all this.”

“My song has to work. It will work,” he repeats.

“It will,” Eurydice agrees. “It can do all this.” She gestures around the room. Flowers have pushed through the floor boards. They line the fireplace and decorate Orpheus’s nightstand. “It can save us.”

“How long do we have?” Orpheus asks.

“Maybe two weeks,” Hermes answers, “at best.”

“I’ve almost got it, Hermes. I’ll be ready to sing by then.”

“Thank you.”

“It will work. I promise," Orpheus swears.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes receives messages from Olympus: summons to his and Orpheus’s trial. Fearing the immediate fallout of his arrival, he doesn’t answer them. After receiving a foreboding prophecy, he’s forced to tell Orpheus to prepare to defend himself. Orpheus works on a new version of his song, something he can sing despite his smoke inhalation in Hadestown. Eurydice can’t help but repeatedly fall in love with her very talented boyfriend. Apollo encourages Hermes (or maybe himself) that they’ll win the trial. Thanatos and Hypnos hide in Asclepius’s basement on Olympus. Thanatos feels pathetic. Hades gathers support to defeat the kid he attempted to murder in court (yeah his case isn’t great). Persephone misses past-Hades, the Hades she knew who wasn’t quite so homicidal. Dionysus gets drunk. Hyacinthus exists. Achilles and Patroclus are beginning to realize their case to not end up dead again isn’t very good.

Orpheus wakes to another bright spring day, anxious but excited. They’re scheduled to arrive on Olympus in a few days, meaning the journey begins today. Which means he gets to leave the house and therefore he’ll see the springtime he’d created, and not just through a window.

“What time is it?” Eurydice mutters, rubbing her eyes.

“Morning,” he answers.

“I noticed,” she groans.

“Oh come on, Eurydice, it’s not that early!”

“Yeah, yeah. You still up for leaving today?” she asks.

“The song’s as good as it’ll get and I feel fine. Plus, I haven’t been outside in what? Three weeks? I know the circumstances… aren’t great. But at least I won’t be stuck in here.”

“I’ll be happy to get out too,” she agrees. “I hope I’m not forgetting anything. Let’s see… clothes, medicine, sheet music, your lyre…”

“Speaking of…” he raises his eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m never going to learn to play! Why do you bother?”

“You promised,” he coerces. “We don’t have anything else to do.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine.” She strums the lyre. It sounds terrible.

“No offense, but how can you make it sound so bad?” Hermes inquires from the doorway.

“Hermes! Are we leaving?” Orpheus greets him.

“That we are,” he answers. “Now, you’re officially banned from walking, Apollo’s orders. So two things. First, you get a wheelchair. Second, we’re traveling by chariot once the train line ends.”

Orpheus grins. “A better view of the flowers.”

“I hope springtime meets your expectations.”

“It will,” he says, assuredly.

“Let’s find out.” Hermes helps him out of bed. Eurydice sets him in his wheelchair. Someone has hand sewed cushions into the seats. It’s surprisingly comfortable.

“Okay, close your eyes. It’ll be twice the surprise,” Eurydice instructs him. He puts a hand over his eyes. “No peeking.”

She opens the door. The warm scent of spring air hits him. “Open your eyes!”

He stares, transfixed. “Oh my gods,” he whispers.

“Do you like it?” she inquires.

He nods rapidly. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

Flowers dot the meadows along the train track. A misty rain falls from clouds. He turns his face to the sky and lets the raindrops hit his cheeks. He hums his song and the field seems drawn towards the sound. Flower heads turn to face him rather than the sun.

Eurydice hands him his lyre. He strums it as he sings. The world harmonizes with him. Birds chirp his notes. A stream bubbles to the rhythm. Even the rain seems to fall on beat.

He smiles. “The world sings along,” he remarks.

Eurydice stands in awe. She feels the way she had the first time she’d heard the song. The way the whole world seems to beg for more. The light of the sun is drawn to him. It breaks through the clouds to touch his cheeks. Flowers bloom in his hair.

He offers her a carnation. “Orpheus,” she says, breathless. She takes the flower and tucks it behind her ear. “You did all of this.”

“Not alone,” he reminds her. “We did this together. It’s our springtime. It’s beautiful.” He takes her hand. “But no flower could ever be as pretty as you, Eurydice.”

“Smooth,” she says, grinning.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hades?” Someone taps on his door.

“Come in,” he mutters.

A young woman stands in its frame, silver hair and a bow strung over her shoulder. She strides to his desk. “This might not be my place to tell you this. No, it definitely isn’t my place. But neither of us visit Olympus too often, so I thought I’d tell you what I’ve been wanting to tell you for the last century or so.”

Hades sighs. “And that is?”

“That you’ve lost your damned mind!” she shouts. “I respected you once, you know. More than my father or Poseidon.” Her voice takes an even harsher tone. “These days, I don’t know who you are," she spits. "My brother, for all his foolishness, is on the right side of this fight, Hades. Now. Here’s your dear brother, ready to conspire with you.” 

Artemis storms out the door. Zeus takes her place. “It seems we’ve upset the huntress,” Hades mutters. An arrow whizzes past his ear.

“You shot my brother in the ankle, Hades! Say that again and I’ll-”

Zeus slams the door behind him. “Sorry about her. She’s stubborn, just like the rest of them. Still, they’ll give in.”

Hades shakes his head. “They won’t give in, brother. That boy… he has power. He will keep support. He may even gain support. We cannot win this war.” He exhales. “Perhaps we must change our target.”

“Someone we have evidence against. Hermes,” Zeus suggests.

Hades nods. “The traitor. We argue the truth. The boy’s song will pose a problem. He adores his traitorous father and he will plead for his freedom.”

“So we take him before the poet boy gets a chance to fight.”

“Remember, he won’t be alone,” Hades reminds him. 

“You’re a king, Hades. You have more power than Hermes. More power than all of them.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hades asks, cautiously.

“Play off of his fear. He loves that boy. Enough to betray his own family and put his freedom on the line. Let him believe that his son will suffer, whether he will or not. His terror will be punishment in and of itself.”

“You’re asking me to psychologically torture your son?” Hades asks, uneasily.

“My son, who betrayed you,” Zeus reminds him. “I care very little for blood relations. Listen, Hades, we don’t need to make an example out of him. If I know anything, I know the Olympians won’t be deterred, not by any punishment I inflict. What we need is vengeance. To show Hermes alone that he was a fool to cross us. This is how he learns. All that is left to decide is what to do with Orpheus.”

“I do not wish to harm him further,” Hades admits. “The boy is… correct. As unappealing as the idea may be, Hadestown needs change. It took a single note of a mortal boy’s song to bring my kingdom to the ground. The foundation of my empire is built on sand. If I wish to maintain what is rightfully mine, I cannot continue what I have done.”

“Fear holds power, brother,” Zeus explains.

“No. Fear is temporary,” he retorts. “I need permanence. I need respect, not because my subjects are afraid, but because they are provided for. My wife is the water of my concrete foundation. Her presence keeps them happy.”

“Don’t ask me for advice on your marriage, brother.”

“I would never.” Hades rolls his eyes. “What I’m saying is, Persephone won’t stay unless… Listen, I need real change, radical change. Pay in trade for the work of my shades. Unionized labor. If I can prove to my wife that I am willing, she may stay to help.” For the good of the workers, he wonders, or to assuage his own loneliness? Regardless, if keeping Persephone will keep his kingdom, that is what he must do.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orpheus finally gets to see his springtime in person! It’s everything he dreamed it would be. Eurydice flirts with him. Hermes pretends he is not internally screaming about the trial. Apollo gets to hold hands with Hyacinthus and do cute couple things for two seconds before uncle decides whether or not flower boy should go to hell. Dionysus sobers up for about three seconds to decide how he’ll argue why his mother shouldn’t have to stay with his father then gets hella drunk again. Persephone has predetermined that she’s probably headed for Hadestown. Achilles and Patroclus are preparing for death part 2. Zeus is giving bad relationship advice. Hades receives bad relationship advice but takes the high road (except that thing about torturing his recently fired ex-employee). Artemis appears to yell at her idiotic relatives.

The door to Asclepius’s cellar opens. Thanatos grips his scythe tighter. Athena stands before him. Asclepius guides her inside.

“This is not what I was expecting, Asclepius. Brought before the God of Death.” She dips her head, like a slight bow. “Or perhaps he is brought before me. What do you ask of me, Thanatos?” She isn’t nearly as skittish around him as the other gods, Thanatos observes. Still, her hand tightens on her spear. 

“Only to inform you of our… plans,” he replies.

“Feel free. Do understand, I am firmly on the side of Orpheus. While I do not know your stance, I know you will not change mine.”

“I stand against Hades as well. I helped the boy escape.”

“Your courage is honorable.” Her grip on her weapon relaxes. “I will hear of your plans.”

“We will come out of hiding the day of the trial and publicly side with Orpheus. With any luck, it will give us a chance at safety if Orpheus wins.”

“A decent plan. If I might advise you, do not join Orpheus in the courtroom. Simply proclaim your support. If you stand among his friends, you will only layer charges,” she explains.

“I understand.”

“Your mother, Thanatos, she sent word to Olympus. I intercepted her letter before Zeus could find it. I suspected you might be here, but I felt searching might place the suspicion on me,” Athena says. “Would you like to read her message?” 

“I would,” he replies, keeping his tone even. She hands him the letter.

‘My sons,’ it reads, ‘I may only pray that this letter reaches you. If the rumors are factual, you are being cared for on Olympus. I have feared for your health, Hypnos, since I received word of your condition. Thanatos, I am thankful for your aiding of your brother.’ 

‘Word from the underground is positive. Hades’s kingdom has fallen. Your home has been spared and I have convinced the furies to allow your safe passage home. I await your return. -Nyx’

“Thank you, Athena.” Thanatos hands the letter to Pasithea. “Read it to him.” 

Hypnos lifts his sleep mask. “Ah. Hello, Athena.”

“I admire your power over Zeus, Hypnos. Very few deities could put him to sleep and escape the consequences.”

“Anything for my wife,” he says, kissing Pasithea’s cheek. 

“I will see the three of you in a few days, then. If you need anything, I trust Asclepius will provide. I will plan on your arrival.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Thanatos says. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chariot ride had been exhilarating. Orpheus had enjoyed the wind whipping his hair across his cheeks. He’d practiced his song with Eurydice and watched the world come to life around him. Now, it would be decided if he’ll be allowed to continue living in the world he’d brought back from death.

Eurydice pushes his wheelchair up the road to Olympus, previously a staircase, but thoughtfully converted into a ramp with switchbacks in preparation for Orpheus’s arrival. The path is lined with foliage he doesn’t recognize. The leaves are golden. “Hey Eurydice, look at these plants! Golden lea-”

“It’s Olympus!” she gasps. 

He looks up from the plants. His eyes widen. “Wow…” The city shines against the bright sky. It’s built of pure white marble, accented with sapphire blues. “Us… against all that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Orpheus!” Eurydice tells him. “Even the gods love the sound of your song.”

“We do,” Apollo agrees, hand in hand with Hyacinthus.

“You always like love songs, Apollo,” Hyacinthus says.

“I’m not the only hopeless romantic on Olympus!" he protests. "Wait ‘til you meet Aphrodite.”

“Does she really appear as the person of your dreams?” Orpheus asks.

“How will you ever contend with two of me?” Eurydice teases.

He laughs. “I was thinking the same.”

“You’d like Eros, Orpheus,” Apollo notes, “Aphrodite’s kid. His wife, Psyche, also had her fair share of underworld experiences.”

“God of Love, right? You’ve got a lot of them!”

“That we do. You should know. Affection is a wide domain. My sister would say something about the love between colleagues. Everyone knows she’s head over heels for Callisto though.” Apollo grins. “I haven’t seen my sister for years. I should like to ask her why she never visits.”

“Probably because you were whining about my new residence in Hadestown,” Hyacinthus teases him. “Luckily for your poor sister, I’m back.”

Apollo blushes. “Fair.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t want you to scare her lover away with poetry?” Hermes mutters.

Apollo rolls his eyes. “I think my poems are fine, thanks.”

“I think they’re better than fine,” Hyacinthus says. “They’re lovely.”

“Is this really what we’re discussing?” Persephone interrupts. “The fate of the world is in our hands.”

“Might as well have some fun before we all face eternal torture in Tartarus!” Dionysus laughs. “Who wants some wine?”

“Why not?” Apollo shrugs. Achilles accepts a glass, unwilling to be bested by Apollo. Dionysus pours extra glasses and only Hermes and Persephone ultimately refuse.

“A toast,” Eurydice lifts her glass into the air. “To the patron of all of this. Orpheus, who returned the spring to us.”

He takes her hand. “This is the world we dream about!” He sips his wine and forces himself not to spit it out. “That’s stronger than I remembered.”

“Kid, that’s the lowest alcohol content I have!” Dionysus laughs.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermes sighs. His legs feel heavier with every step. The walk is miserable. Worse than the road out of Hadestown, he thinks. He feels burdened, but his arms are empty. He falls behind the rest of the procession, walking at an unusually slow pace.

Apollo stays behind to speak to him. “Hermes, are you alright?” he asks softly. “You seem-”

“Yeah. I’m alright. Let’s just go, okay?” 

Apollo grabs his wrist. “You aren’t. What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just nervous.” He yanks his hand out of Apollo’s grip. 

“Liar.”

“Would you leave me alone?” he snaps. “Go pester your soon-to-be-dead flower boy or something.”

Apollo flinches. “Yeah. Fine.” He returns to Hyacinthus’s side and takes his hand, glancing back at Hermes.

Hermes exhales and leans against a tree. His head hurts. The trial looms like a shadow over him. What argument does he have? Nothing. Especially not against his charges… He closes his eyes.

He hears the muffled sound of footsteps. “Hermes?” The world sounds underwater.

Orpheus sings. Then he doesn’t. “No! No!” He pleads. Blood. Eurydice’s gasp. Hermes opens his eyes. Golden blood stains the ground.

He blinks. Apollo’s face appears before him. Orpheus’s song hums in the air. His mind clears. “Hermes?”

“Hey,” he mumbles.

“I told you something was wrong,” Apollo says.

“I’m sorry.”

“That… wasn’t you. Mind telling us what happened?”

“Hades’s doing,” Orpheus says, pausing his song. “He did the same to me in Hadestown.”

Hermes nods. “I saw the same prophecy again.”

“He wants to break our will to fight. Don’t let him win,” Apollo warns him.

“And if it’s true?”

“Then it’s unavoidable. We go to trial, we argue as best we can. If we lose, so be it. Let us fight, regardless of the outcome,” Apollo says.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their trial fast approaching, everyone arrives at the gates of Olympus. Hermes again receives the same foreboding prophecy, but they’ve come too far to turn back now.

The golden gates of Olympus span before them, in beautiful contrast to the city’s mostly marble architecture. Athena opens the doors, standing guard as they enter. “Welcome home,” she greets the returning Olympians.

“Are we safe?” Hermes questions her, leaning against Persephone for support.

“You’re safer than you could be,” she says. “Hades insisted upon immediately locking you up, but we negotiated against chains. I am supposed to disarm you, however.”

“We only have Hades’s knife, as far as I know,” Hermes explains.

“I’ll take it.” He hands the knife to her. It’s stained with blood, unwashed since… Hermes doesn’t want to think about it. “Smart, preserving the evidence,” she tells him, turning it over in her hands. He accepts the compliment, although his intention hadn’t been to incriminate Hades.

“Apollo!”

He looks up as Artemis flies down the path and leaps into his arms. “Artemis! Ouch, wait. I took an arrow to the ankle, remember.”

“Sorry!” She holds him up for support. Hyacinthus takes his other side. “It’s been a while, Apollo.”

He chuckles. “And whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry! I know I should’ve been there for you. It wasn’t you I was trying to avoid. Still, I should’ve said something.”

He tilts his head. “Who then?”

“Take a guess. Zeus and Hades blamed me for the Asclepius situation, because it was my hunter he resurrected. Our relatives are easier to avoid than to confront, so I ran. I see your lover didn’t stay down too long,” she remarks.

“I don’t know. I’d call eighteen- no nineteen- years a long time,” Hyacinthus says.

She shrugs. “Shorter than most people stay dead for. Anyway, our prospects look fine. Zeus and Hades remain their ever-stubborn selves. Still, the whole world heard that song. Callisto and I were as far from the railroad as one could get and we heard it. That son of yours, he has the whole planet on his side.”

“You’re still with Callisto?” Apollo says with a smirk.

Her cheeks flush. “I suppose. She’s a wonderful hunting partner.”

“You don’t need the ‘hunting’ bit of that sentence.”

“And you wonder why I never visit,” she mutters.

“Aw, come on, Art. I’m only teasing. Please do come by more often.”

“I come by plenty when you aren’t moping and our father isn’t attempting to bring his wrath upon me. Shouldn’t we be discussing the trial?”

“Right.”

“I’ve been keeping my eye on Zeus,” she says, as they walk through the gates. “I posed a case for Hyacinthus, too. Our father seemed open to the idea of letting him live if it means you’ll get back to your duties.” 

Apollo grins. “Still, it’ll take some argument,” Artemis continues. “I overheard that Hermes will be the target of the trial, not Orpheus. I didn’t catch why they changed their plans, but I thought I’d warn you. Ares, Zeus, and Poseidon took Hades’s side. The rest of Olympus is loyal to Orpheus, to varying degrees, and for different reasons. Regardless, it’s support!”

“A little good news for once,” Hermes remarks.

“Yes. I’m sorry about your circumstances, though.”

“Better me than Orpheus. When does the trial start?” h e asks.

“Soon,” Athena answers. “Let’s arrive before our opposition.” She guides them down the street, ethereal and white as the rest of the city. 

Orpheus notices the flowers, gardens pressed against every house and street corner, all in full bloom. It seems even Olympus feels his springtime. He absentmindedly plucks out a few notes on his lyre. The flower heads turn to face him. 

Eventually, they reach the center of the city. A marble building rises higher than the rest. Its domed roof has blue accents. The entrance is lined with sets of ornate pillars. 

“Here we are,” Athena says, “Get comfortable. Confidence will be an asset to our case.” 

Hestia welcomes them inside. “You must be Orpheus! The poet I’ve heard so much about.” Her smile is genuine and it lights up the entire room as Eurydice wheels him inside. 

“I am!” Orpheus says. “The gods know me!” He whispers to Eurydice.

“I am sorry for the circumstances of our meeting, Orpheus. My name is Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth and Home. Are you comfortable as you are or would you like a chair?” 

“This is fine! Thank you.”

“Of course! You will all be provided food and drink throughout the trial,” she tells them. “And Hermes, Hades has express interest in shackling you to your chair. I am not sure what he expects you to do, but I wanted to warn you regardless.”

Hermes nods, soundlessly. 

Eurydice sits beside Orpheus. “You okay?” she asks, gently.

“Yes. I’m just… preparing myself to see Hades.” He lowers his voice. “It’s Hermes I’m really worried about. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“He’ll be alright,” she assures him, uneasily. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermes sits on the far edge of the semicircle of seats, keeping Orpheus in his line of sight. He’d picked out Hades’s chair, draped with a new grey coat and placed himself directly across from it. He’d keep a close eye on the King of the Dead, he’d decided. For Orpheus’s sake. 

He sits in silence, separated from the rest of his side of the case. Three figures enter the room. The two men closely resemble each other. Thanatos and Hypnos, he realizes, with surprise. Orpheus looks at the ground, afraid to meet the God of Death’s eyes.

“We are allies,” Thanatos announces, “To Orpheus.” The god takes a seat beside Hestia, adjacent to the rest of the room. Orpheus beams in disbelief.

Other deities trickle into the courtroom. Ares takes the first seat on the other side of the room. Aphrodite and her son, Eros, take Orpheus’s side. Demeter pulls Persephone into her arms in a long hug and takes a seat beside her daughter. The air seems to warm at their touch. The Anemoi, the four winds, side with Hades, probably due to Hyacinthus’s presence, Hermes notes. Poseidon and Zeus arrive together, taking their seats beside Ares. 

Hades is last to arrive. The air prickles in his presence. Persephone turns up her lip. Orpheus squeezes Eurydice’s hand. Hermes forces himself to keep his gaze fixed on Hades as he strides to his seat. He scans his ex-employer for weapons, anything he could use against Orpheus. He finds nothing and his head aches too badly to keep searching. Hades sits and glares, his eyes trained upon Hermes. He moves his head slightly. Hermes’s vision fades to black. 

He sees nothing, only hears the notes flooding over him and he feels the chains, boring into his wrists. Orpheus’s voice, so clear and effortless. He stops singing. A chair creaks. “No! No!” Orpheus screams. Blood. A stronger scent than ever before. Eurydice gasps. His vision returns. Drops of golden ichor bead on the marble floor beneath his feet. 

Hestia sits at his side. “Hermes?” She hands him a handkerchief. “Your nose is bleeding. Pinch, lean back a little. Are you alright?” He nods. “Would you like something to drink? You passed out.” He shakes his head. His eyelids feel heavy. “Okay, I want you to drink something anyway.”

She hands him a glass of nectar and he takes a sip. “Would you like to lie down for a moment?” 

He hears heavy footsteps approaching. Hades. “I told you, chain him up,” he growls.

“Hades, he’s clearly quite ill.” She places a hand against his forehead. “He’s running a fever. Perhaps we should delay-”

“No,” Hermes mutters. “I’m alright.” 

Hades presses shackles around his wrists. He can’t find the strength to fight back. “The trial proceeds.” Hades returns to his seat. 

Athena rises. “We proceed, then,” she says, uneasily. “The prosecution may give its opening statements.” 

Hades dips his head. “We open, Olympus, to traitors, with more support than those who abide by the law. To the lesser crimes of the foolish Orpheus, willing to unwind the binds of death for his selfish desire for the girl he forgot.” Hermes sees Orpheus draw in a small breath. Eurydice whispers something to him. 

“And the true cause for our gathering,” Hades continues, “Hermes. Impressive, I must admit, just how much of his contract he managed to break. Willing to betray his own family for the good of a mortal boy and his worthless lover.” Eurydice’s expression hardens, burning with anger. She sips from the glass beside her, hiding her fury. “Pathetic and foolish is his love of mortals. Even now, he betrays us, refusing to provide evidence before the court, simply because it incriminates a red-blooded boy. He hides from us the contract of Eurydice, a shade of Hadestown, returned to life by his maddened endeavors.” 

“How, Olympus, do you side with these cowards? Do the laws of our land mean nothing to you? Your very sustenance relies on the preservation of death. Without it, your precious world would be overrun by long-dead shades, many of them criminals. Murderers, thieves, vain enough to proclaim themselves above you. Today, let us prevent the fall of your civilized world. Let us uphold the borders that protect us and punish those who dare to tear them down.” He lowers himself methodically back into his seat.

Athena stands once more. “And the defense’s response. Lord Hades, the reason for Orpheus’s support is this: Olympus does not find your actions redeemable. This mortal boy walked into your realm on his own two legs. He sang a song, so beautiful, the world wept for his love. He reminded you, he reminded all of us what it means to lead. That strength is not found in cruelty and fear, but in love and respect. He stood before the King of the Dead and he sang. If that is cowardice, there is no bravery.”

Orpheus smiles. She continues, “You allowed him safe passage home, so long as he did not break your terms. He was not to sing until he reached the surface. Although his memory faded with the fog of the River Lethe, he did not break his contract. Still, you sent shades to hunt him down and blackmailed Thanatos into bringing you his soul. You tortured Orpheus, deprived an already injured and starved young man of food and drink and forced him to sing at your will until he could not force out another note. Once you discovered he was no longer of use, you stuck a knife through his stomach and left him to die, alone in the dark.” Hermes notices Orpheus’s misery at remembering his days in Hades’s prison. Orpheus sips his drink to distract himself.

“We are inclined to side with the truth and that Orpheus is a traitor is a lie. Broken contracts hold nothing to the crimes of Hades. The law exists to govern our morality. When the law is wrong, it is our job to uphold justice. Not in the name of the papers we signed, but in the name of what is just. Let us do today what is just: acquit the defendants and honor them for their gifts of springtime. Now, albeit unconventionally, I ask for a song.” 

Orpheus strums his lyre and sings his first notes. His song washes the room with an incredible warmth. A murmur goes about the crowd as flowers begin to bloom in the vast hall, wrapping chair legs in vines, springing from the ground. His shoulders drop, his fear fades as he sings. His song recites love. Not just his own. Not only Hades’s. 

Apollo is struck all over again by the first time he’d seen Hyacinthus, his beautiful Spartan prince, outlined against the sunrise. Achilles remembers Patroclus, racing him through Peleus’s halls. Artemis sees Callisto, her eyes glinting in the moonlight as they hunt, side by side. Even Hera feels the old flutter in her chest, some tiny spark of love for her husband, love she’d long since extinguished. Persephone feels the change of her husband’s heart. How he sees her, how he knows what must be done. 

Not a single note is out of place, not a single line is forgotten. Orpheus’s song is a song of love and warmth. A song of hope for what might be. What is now, so long as he keeps singing. And this time, his voice doesn’t fail him. He does not falter. He only sings and sings, until every flower on Olympus and on the ground faces him. Until his voice reaches Hadestown and echoes off the distant walls and the workers join the chorus, singing with a new vigor. His springtime is not the springtime of legends. It is more. It is hope for a new world, freedom from the past. And he keeps singing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades gives his opening statement, slandering Orpheus and Hermes for the hell of it. Athena counters this with the help of Orpheus’s song. Everyone remembers why they like their spouse/partner. Hermes is losing his mind.

Orpheus’s song floods over Hades. For a moment, the King of the Dead draws his eyes away from Hermes. He finds his wife, smiling in the warmth of the spring. At first, she doesn’t notice him, her eyes closed, letting the music flow around her. She looks just as she had the day they’d met, her hair dotted with flowers, a green dress at fluttering at her ankles. Demeter sees him first. He feels the tension of her anger.

Finally, Persephone opens her eyes. Her gaze falls upon him. She smiles. ‘Hades,’ she mouths. A shiver runs up his spine. His wife, imprisoned by eternal winters for the crime of daring to love him.

“Persephone.” He says her name aloud, not with hatred and frustration, as he had so many times before, but with pure love. He feels her fondness for him, for the first time in so long. That somehow, after all he’d done to her, she still cares. She is willing, by some miracle, to give him another chance.

If Persephone can find it within herself to consider forgiveness, he must be forgivable. His eyes land on Hyacinthus, swaying to the music, hand in hand with his lover, praying for his life. Achilles and Patroclus, at peace, one last time, as they await some cruel verdict. Orpheus, whose passion could move kingdoms, the boy who Hades himself had nearly killed. And Hermes, unconscious in Hestia’s arms, as she softly pleads him to wake.

All of their terror is undeniably his doing. He feels no satisfaction, only the smoldering of his guilt. And he rises to his feet.

“The trial is over,” he announces. Orpheus falls silent. No one moves, no one breaths. Hades’s brothers look at him, confused, uncertain. “I have made my decision.” Orpheus clutches Eurydice’s hand.

“Lord Hades…” Athena protests.

He cuts her off. “I give the verdicts. Hyacinthus will remain on Olympus.” The young man looks up, awaiting some cruel terms, some punishment. None comes. He throws himself into Apollo’s arms.

“Achilles and Patroclus may live out their lives as mortal men. They are guaranteed a place in Elysium upon their deaths.” They stare at him, frozen in place.

Orpheus looks up, hopeful. “Keep singing, boy,” Hades tells him. He frantically draws his lyre and sings for a chance at freedom.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermes blinks. He finds himself cradled in Hestia’s arms. He tries to push himself upright, but his body feels heavy as a rock. “You’re awake. Good.” Hestia whispers.

“Where’s…. Orpheus?” he croaks. He hears the song, but it sounds distant, as if he’s miles away from the source. Hestia sounds far away too, like she’s underwater.

“Hades is giving him a chance, I think. To sing for his freedom. He’ll be okay,” she assures him. “You need to focus on staying awake.” He nods. “You’re very cold. Your fever broke, but now your temperature is dropping.” She drapes a blanket over his shoulders. “Can you think of anything that could’ve caused this?”

“Hades,” he chokes out. “Hades doesn’t want my interference when he…” his voice trails off.

“Are you sure?” she inquires, alarmed.

“I’ve seen him do it before. Orpheus is in danger. Please,” he begs, “I should be there to aid him.” He sits up, his head spinning. 

“You need to lay down, Hermes.”

“No. I need to…” 

“Enough,” Hades booms. A last note vibrates Orpheus’s lyre strings. He places a hand against it and cuts off the sound. 

Hades rises, his chair scraping against the marble floor. He moves with slow, methodical steps until his stands before Orpheus. The young poet seems to shrink in his seat. Eurydice clutches his hand. 

The King of the Dead doesn’t move. He simply stands, motionless. Orpheus swallows. The flowers at his feet wilt and blacken. Hades draws a blade.

Hermes blinks. He shakes his head, pinches himself. But this is no nightmare. He doesn’t wake to blood-stained marble, as he had so many times before. Orpheus’s eyes widen in sheer terror. He puts his hands up, desperately trying to ward of an attack. “No… No,” he whimpers. Hades grasps his wrist between two fingers. Orpheus struggles against his grip, to no avail. He sobs. “No…” he pleads again. Eurydice takes in shaking breaths, unable to turn away. Unable to move.

Hermes strains against his chains until they press into his skin. He can’t break them, he can’t escape. Hades slowly drags his knife across Orpheus’s palm. He releases his grasp. The blade clatters to the floor. The scent of spring flowers is broken by metallic blood. Eurydice takes Orpheus’s hand and he sinks into her arms, sobbing. His cries echo against the walls.

Blood drips to the ground beside the poet, hitting the marble beneath his feet. No, not blood, Hermes corrects himself. Ichor. Eurydice bends down, dazed, still holding Orpheus in her arms. She draws the knife and presses it against her finger. The bead of blood shimmers gold. She pulls her lover tighter against her chest. 

It’s Persephone who discovers their drinks, spiked with ambrosia. “You knew…” she whispers. “You knew you’d let them go before the trial even started.” Hades says nothing. “Why? Why do any of this?” she asks, exasperated. 

“Persephone,” he says quietly. 

“Hades, what are their terms?” she implores. “What new torture will you force upon them?”

“They are free to go. As are you.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “No. Not the husband I know.”

“You have a choice, just as you did when we met, my love.” His voice is gentle and honest. “You may join me and I swear to you that you will never again suffer long winters down below. You may help to make Hadestown anew. Or you may remain here. I leave this to you.”

“When must I choose?” she asks.

“Whenever you wish.”

She approaches him, cautious. “Hades…” He offers his hand. She reaches for him, wavering a second before she takes it. “It’s springtime.”

“It is. Thanks, in part, to you.”

Demeter snatches her other hand. “My daughter. He will only deceive you again. Do not listen. Why slander his enemies only to spare them from his wrath?”

“Why are you allowing this, Hades?” Persephone asks him. 

“A wise man once told me the truth of love. To do what is right, no matter the cost. You long for freedom. If I give it to you and you flee, then I know you do not need me. If you stay, then I know it is for love that you remain,” he explains.

“I…I don’t understand. Hades, my husband. You are letting them go… for me?”

“I am letting them go because that song showed me love. I am letting you choose because that is what his music taught me.” He lets go of her hand and steps back. “You are free to go, all of you.” He shuts the doors behind him.

“Persephone,” Demeter pleads.

“Not now.” Persephone pulls her hand away and kneels beside Orpheus and Eurydice. 

The poet looks up, his cheeks stained with tears. He wipes his eyes and smears ichor across his face. Persephone hugs him. “You did so well, Orpheus.”

“W-why did he let us go?”

She brushes his hair out of his face. “You moved a mountain with that song, baby. You did so, so good.” 

“I-I never thought…”

“Me neither. Me neither. But it is now. You are…”

“A god.” Eurydice finishes the sentence. “And I am immortal.” Her voice quivers with shock. 

“Yes,” Persephone says.

Orpheus inhales a deep breath. “What now?”

“You marry me,” Eurydice tells him. He blushes and she pulls him into her embrace again. 

“You live,” Hermes adds. Hestia lowers him into a chair. 

“Hermes!” Orpheus pulls him into his arms. He sinks into his son’s embrace. 

“We live,” Hermes says.


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orpheus’s song succeeds. Hermes’s prophecy is fulfilled when Orpheus discovers his new immortality, at the hand of Hades. Persephone is allowed to choose where she spends her time, in Hadestown or up above. Eurydice and Orpheus look forward to their future, a lot longer than they had expected. Achilles and Patroclus are given a second chance at life and guaranteed a spot in Elysium. Hyacinthus stays with Apollo. Hermes is unemployed and tired but at least his son is alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last part of this fic. And here is a sappy note from the author: Thank you all so, so much for reading my first-ever fanfic I’ve posted here! As I said in the very first parts, the hardest part of writing (for me) is posting what I write! To publish your art (written or drawn or sung, etc) is to show a part of yourself to the world and it is intimidating. The support you readers have given me has encouraged me to finish (me? finishing something?) this fic and has inspired me to keep posting my writing on here! Thanks a million for joining me on this trainwreck of a fanfiction.

It hadn’t taken Orpheus and Eurydice more than a minute to decide they wanted to go home. The Olympians had murmured amongst themselves. Gods, they had said, who do not have any desire to remain on Olympus? Sure, it wasn’t unheard of to live away from the city. But to visit only for hours? That wasn’t common. 

Hermes had understood in an instant. They had come to plead for their lives and they’d left with much more than they’d bargained for. They longed for normalcy. They’d said their good-byes to Apollo and Hyacinthus, shining with his newfound immortality. The journey home had felt short; Hermes had been half-conscious for most of it. Persephone and Hestia helped him down the ramp, leaving Olympus behind them. 

The train ride had been silent. Orpheus and Eurydice had sat side by side, hand in hand, never looking away from his bedside.

The flowers in the meadow turned their heads to Orpheus, God of Song, as he passed, though no notes touched his lips. Persephone helped Hermes inside and they’d slept. 

When he’d finally woken, Hermes found Orpheus and Eurydice outside his window, laying together in the meadow. They sat beneath a tree and Orpheus strummed his lyre, humming the notes of a new song, flowers blooming around him, warm raindrops against his cheeks. Hermes watched them from his bed, to weary to stand.

The sun, perhaps curious at the sound of Orpheus’s music burned off the clouds and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Eurydice was the first to notice. It was a novel sight after years without a spring. She pointed it out to Orpheus, who watched it, wide-eyed, and then switched to singing about the colors above him. 

…

Today, almost exactly a year after their original return, Orpheus and Eurydice would be married, in the light of spring. Orpheus stands beside his wife, sipping a glass of nectar. Eurydice frantically adjusts her veil. Orpheus sets down his drink and takes her hands in his. “Hey. You look great, love. What’s wrong?” he asks her.

“It’s just… we never could’ve done this before…” she sighs. “We could never have paid for all this. And now…”

“We won’t lose it this time,” he promises.

“I know. It’s hard to forget that we did once.”

He nods in understanding. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, lover. Sure, winter will be cold, summer will be hot, but it’s spring now!” He places his hands on her waist and sways back and forth. Eurydice smiles. She grabs his hands and spins him under her arms. 

“It’s spring,” she agrees. 

The guest list looks exactly as they’d agreed it would on the first train ride home. Hermes received the first invitation, as he still lived with the soon-to-be newlyweds. Persephone, residing nearby with her mother and son, received the second. Hyacinthus and Apollo were in attendance, and Achilles and Patroclus. Hera had blessed the wedding and Aphrodite had agreed wholeheartedly. In some stroke of madness or courage, Orpheus had sent a letter to Hades, inviting him to stop by. He hadn’t received a reply. 

Written inside the cards was indeed Eurydice’s poem, to which she had objected after the letters had been sent. Still, she’d slept with a copy of the invitation under her pillow for months.

The set-up had been easy enough. A few notes of coaxing and, as promised, the trees had laid their wedding tables. Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, had given them a wedding arch of pure light. Persephone and Demeter had provided a feast and Hermes had delivered most of their invitations. 

Apollo walks Orpheus down the isle. He trembles with anxiety. Hermes hands Eurydice off to him and he clutches her hand, beneath their arch of light. “I’m gonna forget what I’m supposed to say,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand. “Orpheus, you aren’t gonna forget.” He nods, hoping she’s right. 

And she is, of course. “I can’t promise you fair sky above,” he vows, “Can’t promise you kind road below. But I’ll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows. Walk beside me?”

“Any way the wind blows,” she swears. “I will.”

Their kiss is long and filled with love. Eurydice’s fingertips brush against the thin scar across her lover’s palm. The tiny mark that had decided their forever. 

The rest of the night is marked by music. Apollo is supposed to be the one performing, but Orpheus can’t help himself. Eurydice joins in, singing beside him, and soon the crowd is cheering for the newlyweds’ song. If Apollo is jealous, he doesn’t show it. 

At Orpheus’s allowance, he leaves his position on stage and spins out a beautiful dance with Hyacinthus. Apollo notices his lover has grown his hair out. He has it tied back in a wreath of purple hyacinths, revealing the gash over his eye, the mark of his death he’d always kept so desperately hidden. Apollo brushes his finger over the scar. Hyacinthus looks away. “Hey, I like it,” Apollo says.

“I wasn’t sure about it. I… I used to wear my hair like this. You know… before? I thought maybe-”

“I love it.” Apollo silences him with a kiss. 

The wedding celebrations carry on long into the night. Hermes looks on as Eurydice and Orpheus share their final dance of the day. Somehow, by some miracle, their tale had turned out this time. 

“Hermes,” Orpheus takes a seat beside him, as Eurydice prepares a snack inside. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Hermes pulls his son into his arms. “I wish I could’ve done more,” he says. He opens Orpheus’s palm, examining his scar. “I wish it every day.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “You couldn’t have done more. I couldn’t have asked for a better father. You saved my life. Endured Hades’s wrath in my place.”

“And you saved me in turn. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.” 

“I wish… you hadn’t gone through so much for me,” Orpheus whispers.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Orpheus,” he says, honestly. They sit in silence for a moment.

“Do you still feel it?” Orpheus asks, suddenly.

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What?”

“His wrath.”

“Do you?” Hermes inquires.

“I never felt it the way you did. It would always… end. A few seconds of agony and it would all be over,” he says.

“That’s not an answer.”

He hesitates a moment. “I do,” Orpheus admits. “Aches and pains, bad dreams, however it manifests, I can always tell.”

Hermes nods his sympathy. “I understand.”

“You were worse. You… you were asleep for days, weakened for weeks. And when you woke… you looked older. And so tired. I was afraid for you,” Orpheus tells him.

“Finding you in that cell, Orpheus… that’s how I felt. I wish I could take all of that pain away from you,” Hermes says.

“I’ll manage,” Orpheus promises. “However long it takes.”

“I know you will.”

Eurydice returns with a plate of fruit and glasses of nectar. She hands one to her husband and the other to her father-in-law. “Happy zero-th anniversary, Orpheus!”

He blushes a deep gold. “We’re married!” he remembers. “It still hasn’t sunk in yet!”

Eurydice looks up at the full moon overhead. The scent of cherry blossom is on the air. She sits beside Orpheus and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here,” she tells him, softly.

“I am too.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Achilles and Patroclus established their residence in the countryside. In thanks for their protection of her daughter, Demeter provided bountiful harvests, year after year. They sat beneath their fig orchard and watched the stars, rejecting offers of glory in trade for the peace and quiet they longed for.

Decades passed and like all good things, their quiet lives came to an end. Achilles was the first to return to Hadestown. He fell ill in late winter. Patroclus never once left his side, providing food and drink and finally strong medicine until his lover breathed his final breath.

Patroclus watched the pyre go up in flames. He collected the ashes in a golden urn, half filled. His nights were cold and lonely and the harvest felt tedious. He watched the stars alone each night, just as he had promised he would. Finally, his time came.

…

He wakes, feeling unrefreshed. He pulls the cover back over himself and closes his eyes again. “Patroclus,” voice from behind him calls. A dream, he knows. He’d had plenty before. He shuts his eyes tighter.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says again. “Mind looking at me? It’s been a while. I missed you.”

Patroclus rolls over. His lover stands before him, young and healthy in a small bedroom. “Achilles?” he mutters. “This isn’t real.”

He prepares to turn away. Achilles takes his hand. His eyes widen at the touch. “No, Patroclus. You’re here!”

“Where ‘here’? Achilles, what is this?” he asks.

“Welcome to Elysium!” Achilles exclaims, taking a seat beside him. “Hades kept his promise.”

Patroclus blinks. “I’m… dead?”

Achilles nods. “Yes. Now we get to stay here. For real this time. I made Hades swear it, on the River Styx.” He brushes the hair out of Patroclus’s eyes. “If you’d like, I can show you around, but I’d rather you rest first. Dying is tiring work.”

Patroclus sits upright. “Achilles… I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I was afraid when Persephone brought you in that something was wrong. She told me that it was common, for shades who died in their sleep to stay asleep for days, even weeks,” he explains. “It wasn’t particularly comforting. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“I didn’t have coins to cross the Styx!” Patroclus realizes.

“I paid your fare.”

“What? How? You weren’t on the banks with me.”

Achilles shrugs. “Persephone told me she’d seen you so I worked on the factory assembly lines for a few days until I could afford to bring you over. I bet she would’ve done it anyway if I hadn’t scrounged together the change.”

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully.

“It wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t worked for years. Kind of refreshing, honestly.”

“Years?” Patroclus asks, surprised.

“No one in Elysium works all that often. In the rest of Hadestown, most shades work part-time, with two weeks’ vacation to Elysium annually, plus weekends,” Achilles says. “And… oh, I shouldn’t tell you until you’re ready to see for yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Patroclus insists. “Please tell me.”

“The sky. It’s not the overworld, but it has its own beauty. It’s quite impressive, and it isn’t even finished. I guess if you’d like we could-”

“Yes!” Patroclus exclaims. “I watched the stars. Every night. It wasn’t the same without you, my love.”

Achilles helps him to his feet and guides him through the house. Through the door of their cozy bedroom, down a short hallway, they step down a flight of stairs and out the front door. It opens to a landscape of rolling hills under otherworldly green lights. The stars are swirls in the sky, illuminated in strange colors. “Stars?” he whispers in awe.

“Hades stopped trying to recreate the overworld. He made it… something else. It worked, clearly. Come, sit.” He shows Patroclus to a well-used patch of grass beneath a fruit tree and lowers his lover to the ground.

Patroclus twirls a blade of grass between his fingers. “This is real,” he observes.

“Orpheus’s song does reach down here. And Persephone keeps everything growing, especially this time of year, springtime in the underground. When she’s with Hades, it’s like summer. Underworld summer. Patroclus, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it really is-”

“It’s incredible.” Patroclus’s lips touch Achilles’s and neither man pulls away, not for an eternity.

—----------(Decades prior to the deaths of Achilles and Patroclus)—----------------------

It had taken Persephone over two years to make her decision. She’d felt bad to keep her husband waiting all this time, but living up on top was bliss after all those long winters. It was summer of the third year when she finally returned.

…

Hermes arrives at her new residence, this one closer to Hadestown, looking awful. For a moment she fears the worst. That her husband had torn up the world all over again. But what he tells her is more frightening.

“Persephone, this summer’s been too long,” he announces. “Orpheus is powerful, but not this good. He’s been singing day and night to keep the weather in check. Singing for months There’s a spring and a fall and a winter, but it won’t last long. Next year, I’m afraid the crops will burn or-”

Horror fills her. “Is he alright?” she asks. “I knew it was getting hotter, but I never thought…”

Hermes sighs. “I’ve seen worse. But it’s wearing on him. He’s too tired to get out of bed these days. Eurydice’s there to help, of course, but he can’t do this forever, Seph. Not even a god can remain eternally awake and it's been months.”

“I’ll go,” she agrees.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking. Your mother can control the seasons. With her help-”

“No, I’m leaving. I’ve made my choice. Tell your poor boy I’ll come by one last time. Let him stop singing.”

Hermes accepts this. They walk up the railroad track in silence.

He gently opens the door of his and Orpheus’s residence. He hears Eurydice, giving words of encouragement.

“It’s been months,” Orpheus says, his voice raspy with strain. “I dunno how long I can stay up. Even gods sleep.”

“I know, lover. But you’ve done so well. Don’t give up now.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “Just… a few more weeks, right? No,” he corrects himself, “Months. It’ll be fall soon. Then winter, then spring.”

“Spring is break time," she reminds him. 

“I know. It’s only… it’s two seasons away.”

Hermes hears her miserable sigh. “You’ve been brave, Orpheus, to keep fighting.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

He gives a little yelp of pain.

“Sorry. I should’ve changed these hours ago.”

Hermes opens the door. Orpheus looks up from his bloodied fingers. He smiles. “Hey Hermes! I’m sorry, I have nothing for us to eat. The song stopped producing a few days ago and I’m struggling with the lyre now that my fingers… well… It’ll be harvest soon. It won’t be ambrosia, but it’ll have to do.”

“No.” Persephone sits beside him. “It won’t have to do. We can fix this. I’m going back to Hadestown. I won’t be long. Spring always returns.”

“You don’t have to do this!” Orpheus exclaims, “My song will be enough until it’s spring again. Don’t go back. Please.”

“I miss him, Orpheus. I do. I’m going… home.” It feels strange to call Hadestown ‘home’. It was most often known to Persephone as ‘hell on earth.’

“Only if this is what you want, Persephone,” he says.

“I do. Please get some rest. Starting now.”

He smiles wearily as he leans back against his pillows. “Thank you.”

“I love you, kiddo. I’ll see you when you bring back the springtime next year,” she promises.

He gives a little nod and he’s asleep, almost the second his head hits the pillow.

Hermes helps Persephone onto the train. Charon drives now, rather than himself. “Take care of Orpheus for me, will you? And give this to Dionysus.” She hands him a envelope. “He can come visit whenever he likes.”

“I will. If you need anything, just send a message.”

“See ya next spring!” She waves as the train pulls out of the station.

…

She remembers Orpheus, almost lifeless, collapsed in a booth just like the one she sits in now. Only three years. It feels like a century. How much he’s been through, she thinks. How much he’s changed. He isn’t the young man who’d collapsed at her feet in Hades’s throne room all those years ago. She has no doubt in her mind that he would’ve sung ‘til spring if she hadn’t gone.

The routine of the train ride is something of a comfort. She watches the scenery fly by outside her window. Green fields, nearly ripe for harvest. All thanks to Orpheus.

The train grinds to a halt. She steps into Hadestown, beyond the wall for the first time in so long. Bluish lights illuminate the stone walls of the city from above. The shadows cast by the buildings aren’t so harsh as they had once been. She raises an eyebrow.

She follows the streets down into the heart of Hadestown, hell on Earth. A young couple passes her, hand in hand.

“Hey, miss?” A woman calls. She turns. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?” the girl asks.

“I- no. Not really.” Persephone looks up at the city skyline. Her husband’a tower is no where in sight. “Where’s the tower?”

“The tower?” The woman looks confused for a second. “Oh yeah! I’ve heard the stories! They took it down during the revolution. You want a glass of wine, miss? If not, the bar’s always open if-”

“Hush,” Persephone cuts her off. “If we’re discovered, there won’t be anywhere left.”

The woman’s brow furrows. “Discovered by who? Mister Hades frequents our establishment.”

“We can’t be talking about the same man,” she says, astounded.

“You sure you don’t want a drink? I’m new here, so maybe someone will know more than me.”

Persephone nods, numbly. The woman leads her down the same street she’d walked a hundred times. Instead of a thin, secluded alleyway, the entrance to her old bar is well-lit and wide open. It’s exterior is painted with a mural of carnations. She steps inside and is recognized almost instantly.

“Lady Persephone!” The bartender calls. “We’ve missed you down here!”

“Ampelos,” she recognizes the young man, a lover of her son, Dionysus, and the best bartender around. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has! We didn’t think you’d come back!”

“Yet here I am. Where’s the tower, my friend? Or the throne hall, I suppose.” she inquires. “I should find my husband.”

“I’m sure Hades will stop by soon enough. Dionysus’s spring wine.” He hands her a glass. “Hades kept the recipe.”

“There’s no vineyards down below,” she corrects him. “How much are you smuggling?”

“None.” He shrugs. “Orpheus’s song changed a lot.”

“Did my husband put you up to this?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s been different since the revolution. We’re still rebuilding, so there’s plenty to do, but having our memories back is nice. So are the shorter shifts. Five day weeks, nine-to-four. The weekends, we do as we like and our two weeks’ annual vacation time can be spent whenever we please. Pay isn’t half bad, though we’re campaigning for more currently, hence the flower. It’s the symbol of our revolution.”

She blinks in disbelief. “Funny.”

“No, I’m not joking,” he protests. “Things have changed.”

Persephone shakes her head. “Not Hades. Hades is unmovable. He gave us a chance because that song made him soft. Nothing more.”

“You’re wrong. He didn’t come this far alone, true. It took a lot of willpower and good minds to convince him to let go of his iron grip on Hadestown, but we did it,” he explains.

The bell chimes at the door. Persephone freezes in fear at the sight of her husband. She’d dreamt it a hundred times, that he’d take away her last safe haven. “Hades,” she pleads.

He stares at her. “Persephone?” He waits for someone to laugh, tell him it had all been a joke. No one does. He moves closer. He doesn’t dare to touch her. He sees her eyes well with tears. “A glass of wine, Ampelos,” he commands.

Her lips part. “You know him?”

Ampelos shrugs. “Like I said. He’s a regular.”

“Hades…”

He cracks a smile. “I suppose I do drink more than I once did. I hoped you wouldn’t judge, Seph- sorry, Persephone,” he corrects himself.

She takes his hands. “Hades… you let us go. You let them go. It’s true?”

He nods. “I promised you change.”

“I didn’t think…”

“I don’t blame you. Persephone… why did you return?”

“The weather became hotter and hotter the longer I stayed. I couldn’t let the world die for me,” she says. “And Hades? I… I missed you.

“You made your choice?” His voice hasn’t lost its old commanding tone.

She closes her eyes and exhales. “I have. I made a promise too. I told them up on the surface I’d be back by spring.”

“And I told you I wouldn’t keep you here,” he says, almost irritated. “But I understand your doubts.” Hades sips his wine.

“I’ll stay,” she promises. 

“For me or for them?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admits.

He nods. “Will you walk with me?”

Persephone takes his hand and leaves the bar behind her. The streets are cleaner, the air is easier on her lungs. The city is lit by beams of blue light, dazzling the buildings in colorful rays. Carnations are painted on some of the walls, left over from the riots. “I stopped trying to make it look like it does up above,” Hades informs her. 

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?” he stops to ask her.

“Yes.”

“The shades seem to prefer it too,” he adds.

“They’re happy, Hades,” she tells him.

“I feared they only kept up the ruse around me to save their skins.”

“No. It’s genuine. They smile. They laugh. I never thought I’d see the day,” she remarks.

They continue walking, past the crumbled remains of factories and newly opened restaurants. “Where are we going, Hades?” Persephone finally asks.

He shrugs. “Where do you want to go?”

She’s surprised at her own request. “Home,” she says. 

“It’s gone,” he responds, bluntly. “The tower fell before I returned.”

“Then take me to wherever you’re staying.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I have no home. I held off. You were never happy in the tower. I wanted you to choose where we should reside.”

“I don’t understand,” Persephone says. “You don’t have a home on the surface. You live here year round. Why should my six months matter more than your twelve?” 

“You’re my wife.”

“And I’m telling you to pick a place. So do it.”

He guides her down the street in silence, away from the center of town. She recognizes the route he’s taking, remembers the last time she’d come this way. It had been no leisurely stroll then. She instinctively reaches for her pocket, retracting her hand when she remembers she’d left her flask on the surface. 

The tightly packed streets open to an empty field, a single dilapidated building at the far edge. Persephone carefully steps over the glass ruins of her now-fallen greenhouses. She rests her hand upon the door of the last building that stands. She exhales and pushes it open. 

The scent of flowers strikes her. Her jaw drops. The garden blooms before her, as if she’s on the surface. As if the vines cannot tell that the sun is a million miles out of reach. 

“Hades…” she whispers, rapt.

“It will improve in your care,” he says. 

“You did this?”

“I did my best,” he tells her, modestly. “Orpheus’s song does reach us.” He pinches a dead leaf between his fingers. “But it’s been quiet lately.”

She takes a seat on a bench in the center of the garden and pats the spot beside her. Hades joins her. “Last time I was here, I used these vines to strangle the man you sent to attack me,” she reminds him. “After he shot Orpheus, that is. I was too late. As always,” she scoffs. Hades says nothing. “No, you look at me, husband.” He turns towards her. “You’re trying. But it ain’t easy to forgive.”

He nods in quiet understanding. “What happened to him once I left?”

She shrugs. “Hermes could tell you more than I could. I spent time with the three of them when things got rough, just after we got home from Olympus. It took Orpheus a long time to get back on his feet, even with the help of your ambrosia.” 

She sighs, remembering those long, long weeks. “He’d sleep all day and wake up screaming. Some nights, he wouldn’t speak to us; he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong. He’d just cry and cry until he lost his voice or I gave him something to knock him out. It was unbearable. But we bore it, Eurydice and I, while Hermes slept. Eventually he improved, but even now, some days are harder than others.” 

“Whatever you did to him, it never went away,” she accuses him. “The same for Hermes. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, not anymore. But sometimes… sometimes I know it wears on them.”

Hades stares at the vines at his feet. “I would take it all back if I could,” he says, quietly.

“I know you would," she says, more gently. "I wish I could relieve their burdens, more than you know.”

“You have burdens of your own,” he reminds her. “The weight of their strife is mine to carry.”

She wonders if he wants her to refute him. “Yes, it is,” she simply agrees. “No amount of apologies, no amount of reform will ever take away that pain.” She stands and turns her back on him. 

He reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “I know. I’m not asking you to forgive. I know you cannot forget. But we have another chance, Persephone.”

“I don’t know what I want, Hades.” 

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written fan fiction (ahem, posted fan fiction, and never before on AO3), but I feel like my inhibitions have been adequately washed away by my extreme degree of not giving a crap, and thus, here we are.


End file.
